Blue Tempest
by Katjae
Summary: The touch and go relationship between Dimitri and Male Byleth. (DimitrixM!Byleth) Very slow burn. Starts at the beginning of Three Houses and follows the chapters. In game scenes are brief/mentioned, but not the focus. It's all the interactions inbetween.
1. Blank Slate

Blank State

4/20/1180

They were staring at him expectantly. All three of them, with wide eyes – a pair of dark green, grayish blue, and rounded purple.

"None of you," Byleth said.

"What was that?" Edelgard, who had long white hair, purple eyes, and decorated in red responded. The two male nobles expressed an equal amount of bemusement.

"I would continue traveling with my father," He said with a certain detachment. His eyes were as blank as his words. The child voice scolded him for being rude, but the damage of his flat-out refusal already scarred any relations to these young heirs.

"Well, I suppose if that's how you wish to live your life," Dimitri, the blond noble adorned in blue accents, shook his head.

"Eh, beggars can't be choosers. I'm not sure I'd be willing to run off with people I just met, either," Claude mused, but his emerald eyes also showed a similar disappointment. He had the darkest skin matched with the darkest hair. Gold complemented his uniform. Byleth said nothing and the four of them went separate directions.

Byleth met up with his father they walked in silence during the dark hours.

As the sun rose, they were met with the nobles and knights. They bantered in lighthearted merriment, as if they had no care in their march. Byleth ignored them and kept a stonewall face. They tried to pull him into their discussion, but he would not entertain them.

Byleth could not wait for a moment of solitude. When he and his father marched with the small mercenary troops, their team acted much the same as these nobles. The only difference being none of the other mercenaries expected Byleth to play along. He had no interest in being a sound box.

"You haven't said a word this entire time," Claude said, "C'mon. You've gotta have something to add to our discussion."

Byleth's response was succinct, "I have no use for banter."

"We are not engaging in banter," Dimitri defended himself, "We are merely discussing the upcoming year."

"What do you want to talk about?" Edelgard asked.

Nothing came to mind.

"What do you do in your spare time?" Claude tried to offer some guidance.

"Free time?" Byleth asked with no discernable trace of sarcasm.

"When you are not training or fighting off bandits?" Dimitri said.

"Hmm," Byleth shook his head. Still, nothing came to mind, "We march. Make camp. Fish and hunt. Drive out bandits. Pack it all back up and march again."

"That is your life?" Dimitri asked.

"Yes."

"Does that not become dull?" Edelgard wondered.

"No."

"You're saying there isn't a single thing you would change about that?" Claude chimed in.

"Nothing."

"You aren't giving us much to work with, here," Claude shook his head.

"I guess not," Byleth ended the discussion on an awkward note. The three nobles gave each other similar looks. Byleth walked slightly ahead of the three, to give them the space they needed to carry a conversation, but also to make a point to leave him out of it.

They eventually did return to their mutual excitement for the upcoming year. Learning from their mistake of trying to include a reclusive personality to the mix, their conversations grew livelier as the hours passed. Even Jeralt, Byleth noticed, maintained a conversation with the older knights.

Byleth noted the behavior as odd but thought nothing else. His eyes were on the path ahead.

Claude mentioned, "Man, how much longer do we have to go? I need to get some food in me."

"It has been a while since breakfast," Dimitri agreed, "But it should not be too much further ahead."

"I should be fine until we return," Edelgard said.

"That's nice for you," Claude laughed, "I should have packed a snack. I'll have to remember that for next time."

Jeralt stretched out his arm and Byleth stopped walking, as did the mercenaries and the knights alike. The nobles were a bit taken aback by the single act causing the entire march to halt in unison.

"Son," He said, "Go get supplies so their highnesses can have a quick lunch."

"Understood," Byleth walked a few feet away, but paused as the princess protested.

"That will not be necessary," Edelgard said, "We would not want to waste precious time."

"Agreed," Dimitri nodded, "You should not concern yourselves with us."

"We've been at this for hours. The monastery is another hour off, roughly. We'll make it, but we should also rest for the final stretch." Jeralt said, "The knights and I can figure out our own. Son, your task is to feed yourself and these three."

Byleth nodded, then proceeded to carry out his task. The three young ones stood in watch, but Jeralt also put them in motion by saying, "Go follow him."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Claude ran after Byleth first, while the other two gave polite thanks and trailed behind.

Byleth, in the meantime, found a small clearing in the trees and built a makeshift sitting area. He wandered to the edge of the forest before being asked by Claude, "Where you headed?"

"Firewood."

"Is there anything we can do?" Edelgard offered. Byleth paused, then returned to the soon to be camp site. He picked up a cast iron pot from beside one of the tree longs intended to be a seat and said, "Fill this. Make sure it's clean water."

"Are you sure that's a task befitting a royal such as yourself?" Claude heckled Edelgard. Byleth seemed to take this as a scolding and said, "Then I will collect the firewood, and come back for the pot."

"No, do not listen to him," Edelgard's voice raised in embarrassment, "I will collect the fresh water. Easy."

". . . Are you sure?" Byleth asked, "I have not seen anyone else in these woods, but we should stay in groups of two, just to be safe."

"Those two will just be at each other's throats if you pair them up," Claude said, "As much as I'd prefer going with you, I guess I'll stay and watch over our lady empress."

"Ugh, fine," Edelgard shrugged, "But you are carrying back the full pot."

"Whatever you say, madam."

"H-hold on a moment," Dimitri objected, but the other two nobles ignored him.

"I have a map of the area," Edelgard said, "I know there is a stream nearby. We will shout if we run into trouble."

Byleth nodded and Claude and Edelgard left in a hurry.

"We don't need much," Byleth said.

"Right," Dimitri knew what to look for as far as wood stalk went, so they gathered it quickly and brought it back in silence. It could not have been more than ten minutes, but each passing second rivaled an eternity of bitter awkwardness.

Byleth began to arrange the wood inside a ring of rocks. Dimitri watched, unsure of what to say.

As he finished, Claude returned with the full pot in hand with Edelgard beside him.

"Perfect timing," Byleth said – almost sounding of praise. He had flint in hand already and struck the pieces together. Smoke rose from the stack and he agitated the flames with another long thin piece, working on spreading the flame within the confines of the rocks.

He finally blew into the stack, and the flames erupted. Nonchalantly, he rose from the campfire and grabbed the potholder, fastening it around the circle and reaching for the pot of water. His actions were fluid. They were mesmerized by the simple grace in which he flowed – and Claude almost did not hand over the pot because of it.

As he fit it into the holder, Dimitri said, "Will it not take some time for it to boil? What are you planning on making?"

"Yes," Byleth answered, "Boiling is easy, compared to other forms of cooking."

"So, a soup then? Vegetable only?" Edelgard asked.

"No."

Dimitri asked, "Where is the meat?"

"I have not yet procured that," He answered.

"You are going to hunt?" Edelgard said, "Will that not also take time?"

"Not hunt," Byleth said, pulling out a fishing line from the supplies he took, "I will be back. While I am gone, cut the vegetables in that bag," He pointed to a few sacks. When did he have the time to grab all of these things?

"You said to remain in parties of two," Edelgard reminded.

"I can fend for myself," Byleth grimaced, silently he wished for a few moments of peace.

"I would feel much more at ease if you took a partner," Edelgard countered, "Dimitri? Are you going to accompany him?"

"Actually, I had a few thoughts on that," Dimitri eyed Claude, "Why not change partners? Surely, one of you would like to know our new acquaintance better."

Byleth raised an eyebrow, but also watched the pot. No bubbles formed, yet, but a watched pot never boils. An unwatched pot overflows and peels off unsuspecting skin.

"Right, while you discuss that," Byleth whispered and snuck away, leaving the bickering nobles at it.

"Claude, be honest. You chose Edelgard simply to avoid any awkward alone time with him, did you not?"

"I would never," Claude shook his head, "He seems like an interesting fellow. You could learn a thing or two from him."

"Or, he made it clear that he did not want to be with any one of us and you chose the path of least resistance." Dimitri sighed.

Edelgard started cutting the requested vegetables and said, "My task has already been delegated."

"That was open ended," Dimitri argued.

"Oh, so you don't want to be around him, now?" Claude said, "That is very rude of you. Well, he's probably leagues ahead so," Claude offered a knife to Dimitri, but he did not comply.

"You are working, too," Dimitri said.

"Of course. You are the only one who is not," Claude laughed, while just beginning to peel potatoes, "But if you really want to settle this: rock, paper, scissors?"

"Wha.t are we, children?" Dimitri's frown deepened.

"Well, I don't have straws to pull."

"So, you do think being his partner is like the short straw!" Claude laughed at how riled up he was getting.

"Now you're putting words in my mouth! Look, okay. Whoever loses rock, paper, scissors will go check on him. Unless you have a better option?"

"I – do not."

"Settled. Ready?" Claude dropped the potato and peeler and balled a fist into the palm of his other hand. Dimitri's eye twitched and hesitated to join in Claude's game, but conceded. Claude smiled, "Best two of three. On go. Ready? Rock, paper, scissors – Go!" Claude landed on paper – and Dimitri landed on rock.

"Luck be favoring me today," Claude said, "Round 2: Rock, paper, scissors, Go!" Dimitri chose scissors this time, while Claude chose rock, "Ooh, gotcha again. Better go check on our friend."

"I do not know how you did it, but I know you cheated," Dimitri turned to Edelgard, "Can I see your map?"

"You did not bring one of your own?" She scolded, "How unprepared."

"No, I did not. I will next time. May I please see the map?"

"Very well. Check my satchel over there," She pointed to the opposite log. While Dimitri was out of earshot, Edelgard said, "I can scarcely believe it. You were right?"

"What did I say? He is predictable. I knew he would choose rock, then scissors."

"A fascinating parlor trick. But nothing more."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong. He's an open and shut psychological case."

"Drop the topic for now. But . . ."

"You wanna know more, don't you? Can't trade any more of my secrets, though," Claude went back to peeling potatoes and Edelgard moved to the next batch to cut. Dimitri found the map and, with every best intention, went to set out.

However, as he took a step away from the log, someone moved in his peripheral vision.

None of them quite saw him emerge from the trees, but Byleth moved silently enough to sit down next to Dimitri, who had studied the map for perhaps a maximum of 30 seconds.

Even Claude and Edelgard were daunted at how none of them noticed his return.

"What are you doing?" Byleth asked Dimitri.

"Uh. Nothing. Just trying to – you know, never mind. Do you need any help over here?" He slipped the map back into Edelgard's satchel and sat next to Byleth.

"Hmm," Byleth looked at the trout he caught, "Have you ever gutted fish before?"

"I . . . cannot say that I have."

"Do you have a weak stomach?"

"Not particularly. I do not believe so."

Byleth removed his gauntlets and gloves, rolled up his sleeves, and began to show Dimitri how to remove parts of the fish that did not belong in the pot. Dimitri saw instantly why he would remove the clothing and mirrored the action. Fish had a particularly pungent smell, but also happened to be the easiest thing for quick preparation. Dimitri even liked trout, but never saw it prepared.

Byleth demonstrated how to clean and cut the fish, then handed the next to Dimitri. While he worked on the one, Byleth finished the other two.

The pot reached overflow – the water sizzled and spat, drooling foam down the sides of the pot. Byleth placed all the prepared meat parts in and asked Claude and Edelgard, "Watch the pot. I'm going to rinse of my hands."

"Yes. I will do the same," Dimitri said. Byleth grabbed a bar of soap from his bag and the two of them walked in the forest.

The smell stayed with them, which made Dimitri want a full bath and his clothes to be thoroughly washed. He did not complain, because he knew his company probably felt the same.

The prince struggled to find anything to talk about. He stopped worrying about it, though, accepting Byleth liked to walk in silence. He blindly followed Byleth's lead, allowing his focus inward, to that of his goal. He could only guess what was going on in the mercenary's head.

The forest was a surprisingly lovely place to take a stroll. When they reached the water, Dimitri could barely contain the urge to quickly wash the scent off. Byleth stopped midstride in between the trees.

"Are we going to – " Byleth silenced him with the same motion Jeralt used to halt his troops. Dimitri followed his gaze to across the stream. It was another patch of thick trees and brush, but no one or nothing seemed out of place.

Perhaps it was just habit on his part? To check his surroundings before coming out into the open?

Then he heard a muffled conversation, "I saw them. Knights everywhere," Byleth grabbed Dimitri's arms and pulled him down to a crouch. Dimitri was unnaturally close to Byleth, their faces nearly touching. For some reason, Byleth did not let go of his arms, and Dimitri did not care to correct it. Byleth put out a surprising amount of body heat, especially in the palms of his hands.

"Dammit, can't we catch a break?"

"Right. Can you imagine the ransom?"

"Pretty penny for pretty children. Eh. We should return and avoid the knights."

"I hear ya. Can't earn gold if we're dead. Maybe we'll happen across other powerful heirs." The sound of cracking twigs faded off into the distance. Byleth waited another moment or two before rising to his full height. Dimitri then also stood and looked across the stream. Byleth handed him the soap.

"We aren't safe here," Byleth said. "Let's rinse off and return to the others."

They went to the stream and Dimitri washed off while Byleth stood watch. Once he felt sufficiently free of fish guts, he handed the now wet bar to Byleth. They switched roles for a moment. When Byleth finished, he directed Dimitri to take the lead back into the forest.

In the cover of the trees, Dimitri said, "Did you hear what they said? Ransom. Were they talking about us?"

Byleth replied, "Probably. Sounds like the normal mindset."

"In what way is that 'normal'?"

"I meant for a bandit," Byleth started to walk the trail back to camp at a brisker pace than before, "Still, that doesn't make sense."

"What about it?"

"They were going for the kill, before. Ransom doesn't work as well on the dead."

"Fair point."

"I'll report this to my father, but for now we should keep our voices down."

"I take it you are not eager for a fight?"

"They're avoiding us for a reason. We have a small army and we wiped most of them out earlier."

"That really did not answer my question."

"We overheard the conversation of two men," Byleth said.

"That still did not answer it."

". . . It's never just two men."

"Oh," Dimitri fell silent, drawing the parallel Byleth made.

"Don't get me wrong. If they saw us, I would've eliminated them. Especially given the way they were talking about you."

"Huh. That might be the most reassuring thing you have said all day."

The opening for the camp was in sight, much to the relief of the two. Byleth felt the hairs on his arms stand on end; a normal reaction for that sixth sense, alerting something isn't quite right. Byleth slowed his pace, hoping to determine the cause of his sudden unease.

"So. It's you." They heard coming from behind. Byleth turned to face the assailant, "You're that kid from a month ago."

Byleth did not recognize this man, who wielded an axe and many scars. He was a larger set man with greying hair and the armor of a brigand.

"I have no idea who you are," Byleth said, positioning himself to protect Dimitri.

"Ah. . . Of course not. It wouldn't do well to remember every person you've ever battled. I'm the same. Usually."

"And?"

"To the point, huh. Very well. I've been tracking your father's movements this month. Waiting for the right moment to strike."

"And this is your moment," Byleth backed away, trying to get Dimitri to run back and warn the other two.

"I am torn. You see. I wanted to kill you and present your head to Jeralt. But, I know who that blonde boy behand you is. It would be a shame to let this go to waste."

"So, you're going to kill me to get to him?"

"I don't want to kill you until I can flaunt it in front of your dad. No. I'm offering you the chance to flee and hold onto your life until next we meet."

"Those two at the stream were scouts, then."

"Oh. There were three. Two dolts and one hiding in the trees that you missed. And what a beautiful gift. The mercenary I need protecting a prince who will bring me fortune. To think my lucky day has come."

"Go back and warn the others," Byleth ordered.

"I am not leaving you behind," Dimitri argued.

"We'll need backup."

Dimitri did not budge.

"I still don't know who you are, though," Byleth said to stall.

"We met in battle when you and your father drove us off. We'd been making our rounds to some prosperous little towns in a straight line – that is, until you all came around. I lost my son to your father that day. It's only fair that I return the favor."

"So, you're after revenge."

"But now I'm after money. Stand aside and let me take that brat off your hands. I'll make what little time you have left worth your while."

"That's not going to happen."

"Guess I get to cut you down today, after all."

The two Byleth spotted earlier emerged from the thicket.

"Still one more. In hiding. These trees are going to make it difficult to track him. You need to retreat and let the others know."

"I am not leaving your side." Dimitri instated, "I am not leaving you to die."

Byleth shook his head, "We can't do this on our own. We need the help of the other two. Go back and – unless. Unless, he wants us to give up their location."

"If they hear us, they will come on their own," Dimitri added, "We have no choice but to meet them head on."

"Alright. Be mindful we are outnumbered," Byleth shook his head, "I should never have split us up."

"We will be fine. Eyes forward."

Byleth moved up and let Dimitri through.

"Going to sell him off to us after all?"

"Do not assume I am going to play along with this," Dimitri said.

"Ah. Don't harm blondie. Do what you must to the mercenary, but the killing blow is mine."

Dimitri did not have his usual lance with him but carried a sword in case of emergencies such as this. He considered his skills shaky at best; however, he held Byleth's talents in higher esteem and knew their success depended on it.

"We need to stick together," Byleth said, "Wait for them to approach. I suspect his third man is waiting for us to get close enough."

"Then we need to take care of those two first."

"Precisely."

Shortly after this exchange, the two axe wielders approached, but one broke off to the right and the other stayed centered. Byleth moved up in anticipation of engaging with one. Dimitri stayed on his heels.

The bandit made the first move in attacking. His movements were clumsy overall, which allowed Byleth to dodge effortless and counterstrike.

He screamed as the blade tore into his flesh. The man was left alive, but only marginally so. Dimitri came in as backup and finished that one off, while Byleth waited to see how the other would proceed.

He moved around a blanket of trees, approaching the campsite.

"He is approaching Claude and Edelgard," Dimitri said.

"Yes. Looks like they had a fairly good idea of where they were."

The two of the appeared at the mouth of the opening.

"What was that screaming, just now?" Edelgard asked.

"Edelgard – look to your right," Dimitri pointed to the bandit approaching.

"Ah. I see. Well now, can we not have lunch in peace? Claude – "

"I'm on it," He moved in with his bow already in hand, "Nothing personal." He drew back and let the arrow fly at his sudden enemy.

"Dammit," The bandit yelled, holding the chest wound where the arrow sunk in. Then Edelgard came in with her axe as the bandit struggled to keep composed. She ended the bandit's life with a swing. Byleth's attention then turned to the bandit leader.

"There's still a lookout. Be careful where you step."

The boss simply shook his head, "If you want something done right . . ." Then steadily approached Byleth and Dimitri.

"If we turned to regroup, these trees would only make it difficult to get a clear line of him," Byleth said, "Unfortunately, I think it best we stay here for the moment. Those two can take that path down and ambush from the side."

"Which leaves just the lookout to worry about."

"Aside from the murderous bandit leader – unless he lied before and there's more than just the one we overlooked."

"We will have to wait and see. He is coming."

The boss laughed, "So, I was right in thinking you were close to all three. This really is my lucky day."

Byleth did not react.

"What's the matter? Afraid?"

Byleth looked up. He saw an archer in the tops of the trees.

"So, that's where you're hiding," Byleth pointed. Dimitri saw him as well.

"That was his plan all along. . ." Dimitri nodded, "What a coward's tactic."

"You don't live this long by playing by the rules. Now, prepare to die, kid."

The Archer readied his focus at Byleth and rained an arrow from above. While Byleth watched the arrow fly, the boss walked up for a combined strike. Knowing this was their strategy, Byleth dodged the arrow by jumping left, then immediately guarded for the incoming attack.

His were a more exact blow, but still slow. Instead of taking it, he jumped back out of the way. Claude and Edelgard hurried quickly to corner him from the left, but still had ground to cover.

"You're fast. Not that it will matter in the end."

"Look out," Claude yelled. An arrow flew passed from a direction Byleth did not expect. It grazed his arm, barely tearing cloth.

"There's more than one." Byleth concluded, relatively unfazed.

"I can see that." Dimitri replied.

Claude engaged with the archer closest to himself. Edelgard moved on ahead of him.

"Two archers at least. This could be difficult," Byleth said. He took the time to attack the boss, in hopes of ending the battle with him. He had more experience than the other two, and it showed. Byleth struggled to get in a fatal blow while also keeping himself out of arms reach.

Dimitri assisted while his focus was on Byleth and pierced from the side. While it connected, it was not enough to push all the way through the thick of the armor; it did, however, give Byleth the opportunity to get in a clean hit.

The boss staggered back. The archer who had his sights on Byleth lowered his bow.

"Tch. If you're gonna just fall, I'm out." The archer retreated, jumping to a nearby tree and removing himself from view.

"Worthless," The boss shook his head then spit a healthy mixture of blood and saliva at Byleth's feet, "You're not as easy of a target as I thought."

The boss ran back toward the stream, accepting his defeat. The archer who exchanged blows with Claude also left the battle.

Dimitri started to pursue but was stopped by Byelth.

"Are you really just going to let him go?" Dimitri questioned.

"The battle is over. Let's head back and inform my father."

"But he will come back for you. You heard what he said, right?" Dimitri pushed, more agitated by the threat on Byleth's life than Byleth.

"Undoubtably."

"Then why are you acting so casual about this?"

"This is not your concern. Come on," Byleth walked the path back up to camp.

"Not my concern?" Dimitri shook his head. The mercenary went back to his usual demeanor. Or had it even changed? Claude and Edelgard caught back up and she asked, "What was that all about?"

"Bandit patrols in the forest."

"I see," Edelgard said. They were back safely in their campsite and Byleth went on ahead.

"Huh," Claude scratched his head.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Did . . . either of you happen to catch his name?"

The three of them exchanged looks again. The captain may or may not have properly introduced his son and he certainly was not friendly enough to give it freely.

"I did not," Dimitri said. Edelgard shook her head and answered similarly.

"I do not believe I heard it."

Claude shrugged and they continued up the path. They found Byleth tending to the now cold stew. He lit another fire under it and added spices.

"Oh yeah. When we heard the commotion, we put the fire out," Claude said.

"Good thinking," Byleth said.

In a whisper so only Dimitri and Edelgard could hear, "So, the man is capable of praise."

"Hush," She scolded, then asked, "Is it safe to eat, still?"

"I'll go find my father. They wouldn't try anything bold with a few more soldiers around."

Edelgard nodded, "I see. I can go find him for you, if you would like."

"Do as you please," was the short reply.

"Aaand I will go with her," Claude grinned, "Buddy system and all."

Dimitri shot him a dirty look but was too tired to say anything. Off in in the distance, Claude said, "Yeesh. You know it's bad when you're the better company."

"Care to say that again?"

"Oh, certainly. Yeesh. You know it's bad when you're the better company," he repeated back in the same sing-song voice as before.

"I bet you will find that different once my house completely annihilates yours."

While they argued, Dimitri sat down at the log and caught his breath, but noticed Byleth hesitated in adding a certain spice, "How much heat can you handle?"

A considerate question, yet it was asked with such a stern face.

"I can handle some. A classmate of mine often likes his food spicier than the average person. I do not know about Edelgard. Or Claude."

He nodded and put the spice away. Then he threw in the vegetables Claude and Edelgard sliced up and mindlessly stirred the contents of the pot, with a glazed film over his eyes.

"Did you need anything else?" Dimitri asked.

"No. This should be sufficient."

"I see. Did you measure the ingredients out or did you just – what's the phrase? 'Eye-ball' it?"

"I didn't measure, no."

"I see. I've never been very successful without measuring cups."

"Hmm."

"Oh, do you want these back?" Dimitri saw the gauntlets and gloves they removed earlier still sitting on the log.

"Thank you," Byleth and Dimitri redressed the missing arm armor.

The conversation went dead. As the future king, he could not let himself be intimidated; however, that was his exact reaction to Byleth's lack of evident care to someone who would track and plot to kill him.

He listed potential topics to bring up but feared being met with irritation. Though he thought to himself, 'I should be able to handle small talk with everyone', he couldn't bring himself to start a conversation.

The more he thought, the less he figured they could have in common: differences in upbringing and experiences aside, they seemed to have strikingly different moral compasses.

Byleth periodically checked the trees and listened for footsteps. The chances of them being pursued were slim but he also understood the brash nature of bandits and thugs, so he refused to rule the possibility out. He sensed the awkward attention he received from the prince whose name Byleth had already forgotten. Not to be too impersonal, he also forgot the other two's names as well.

Dimitri found some inner strength and decided to push his concern from earlier, "What will you tell your father of the bandits?"

"They attacked us and then fled. That he could discern their location by the trail of blood."

Byleth's answer sent a shiver down Dimitri's spine. Instead of backing down, he asked, "Will you tell him about what he said? His plans of killing you?"

"Probably."

"I am glad to hear that."

"It would be advantageous to use his focus on me."

Dimitri hesitated before asking, "Advantageous in what way?"

"Rage is a blindness. He will certainly lose focus and falter."

'Rage is a blindness', Dimitri thought to himself. It struck a chord, and he did his best not to feel personally attacked. He decided to leave it be for the time being, "He could strike back at any moment. Does that not unnerve you?"

"I'll be ready." He said with lack of inflection.

Luckily, some of the knights came back with Edelgard and Claude, so his conversation was official over. Byleth left them to eat and met up with his father, knowing the campsite to be secure.

"So, I heard what happened. Didn't think they'd follow us so closely with all these knights around."

"You knew, then?" Byleth asked.

"I had a feeling we were being tailed but didn't know for certain. I've dispatched some men to clean up the mess you left in the forest and to hunt the rest of them down."

"These were different than the ones hunting them before."

"Yes. They're after us. None of those brats were harmed, right?"

"Right."

"Good. You can go back to babysitting. I want to move out in ten." Byleth nodded and walked away.

There were mercenaries at each opening and Claude, Edelgard, and Dimitri had lively conversation. They were mostly finished eating by the time he returned.

"Say, you aren't a half bad cook," Claude said, "This was pretty good. For road food."

No response. Claude just clicked his tongue, then carried back to the conversation with the other two. Byleth began to pack the equipment not in use. He broke down the pot, fastening a lid on it, and its holder.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Claude asked.

"No," He answered and cleaned the area – being somewhat hesitant on going back to the stream to wash the pot out, he figured he could wait until they completed traveling with the nobles and knights. The nobles watched him leave with a few bags, a fishing rod, and a partially filled pot and holder.

One of Jeralt's mercenaries saw the look on the kids' faces and laughed, drawing their attention, "The boss' kid got you stumped? He's always like that. Don't expect much from him socially, but on the battlefield or doing tasks like that – he's excellent."

"Saved me a time or two," One of the others also commented.

"You know what we call him, right?"

Claude, enjoying this gossip with lit up eyes, replied, "No. What?"

"The Ashen Demon."

"'Ashen Demon'?" Dimitri repeated.

"His face never changes. It's like looking into the depths of the void."

"That's the last image these bandits see sometimes."

"Good thing he's on our side."

"Boss doesn't like it when we call him that, though. So, keep that to yourselves."

"Anyone else here find it funny we know his battle name before his actual name?" Claude joked. Edelgard shook her head and finished her meal, refusing the idle gossiping. Dimitri was lost in what they were saying, replaying earlier events. Why did 'Ashen Demon' fit so well? At the same time, Dimitri hated it and could see why Jeralt would discourage using it.

"Oh, his name is – " The mercenary went silent, as if a cat stole his tongue, at the appearance of Byleth. How long had he been standing in the thicket?

An awkward stillness filled the air. No one dared speak another word of Byleth, nor did anyone have a topic to switch to.

"Father wants to start marching soon," He relayed. The three quickly finished, all wanting to escape this uncomfortable tension. They resumed the march back and carried on about life back home, the academy days ahead, and the thrill of the rivalry to come.


	2. The Color Blue

The Color Blue

4/21/1180-4/22/110

From what Jeralt said about the monastery, Byleth concluded that the archbishop could not be trusted – so he refused to answer her questions. He saw his father smirk ever so slightly before that advisor tore into Byleth for being rude. They never did get a name, though Rhea did hint to possibly knowing it.

In the hours they spent getting situated, Byleth and Jeralt were summoned to the audience chamber multiple times.

Byleth met two new faces on one such occasion. Both older – one a scholar and the other Byleth could only guess her profession. Turned out they were both professors. Wonders abound, that.

Byleth only half listened to them – something about his young age and what to expect. He felt abandoned when his dad left. A strange loneliness gripped his gut and he so desperately wanted to follow his father out of the audience chamber.

Once they let him leave, Byleth went in search of his father and spent the evening with him until the curfew bell rang. He had no choice but to return to his own room.

4/23/1180

Byleth confided in his father early in the morning, "I have more experience that corresponds to knighthood than educator."

"Just play along."

"For how long?"

Jeralt paused, assessing. Ultimately, he sighed and said, "We just have to grin and bear it for now."

"You tell me which town she sends you to. I'll gather enough blankets to create a rope, and – "

"I appreciate the effort, kid. But they'll just hunt us down."

"I don't understand."

". . . You and me both," Jeralt maintained a very serious expression.

"Should I give them my name?" He asked. Jeralt went even more grim.

"If you can avoid it for now, please do. If they force it from you, don't fight it."

"Understood."

"What are your thoughts on the situation?"

"Something does feel right about it. I'm not sure what."

He did not comprehend the church or its desires, but he trusted his father's judgement. Jeralt did not dare say it, but he felt powerless.

Byleth left his father and passed the time until the archbishop gave him a task: talk to the three house leaders (and other students).

'I've already talked to the house leaders', Byleth thought.

Since it would come up shortly, Byleth did his best to recount what he already knew. He could not remember their names, but they were a young woman and two young men.

One of them he spent a great deal of time with by happenstance. He pictured a blond with interesting hair choice and blue eyes. He recalled his face perfectly.

The blond noble seemed upset at times, as Byleth remembered their conversations in the woods. He expresses great concern over the bandits. His darkness surfaced when his concern spilled into anger.

The woman was harder to picture. Her eyes were purple and demanding. Her hair was long. He could not recall her face shape or other details just then, though faintly remembered almost dying to shield this one.

The other young man . . . he could hear his voice, for he talked a lot, but could not recall any specific conversation. Those were the green eyes that pretended to smile. He seemed to joke a lot, but behind that was a different person, yet to be seen.

He descended the stairs. Too many areas to go from there, he glued his face to the map. Behind him, the cathedral. In front, the reception area.

The reception hall was filled with inescapable excitement. They paired up into groups and each conversation became lost in the meddle of voices.

He passed the tables until a woman's voice addressed him.

'Edelgard'

She said her name was. They spoke and he listened less than inattentively to her house students.

He moved after they ended their minimal discussion. He found himself in a restricted area. Turning heel, he went to a different area and found it also blocked off.

Frustrated, he retraced his steps back to the reception hall and carried on to the academy area.

He looked for a set of green and blue eyes.

'Claude'

The laid back one with green eyes. His house was very motley; diverse, yet magic was beyond his expertise.

Thankfully, he saw the last one in the same area before losing his way in the many tall walls of the monastery.

'Dimitri'

He was polite and said affectionate praise on most of the class.

Byleth disembarked and hoped to find his way to the audience chamber without incident.

He found the training grounds at least three times before getting redirected by a guard. So many doors were blocked off and Byleth could not find the right path back. Eventually, his father noticed him and said, "You've been walking in circles. What are you doing?"

"Lost. So, lost."

"Come on. I'll show you back."

They walked together in silence to the audience chamber – Jeralt had something else to take care of, however, and left Byleth to his own devices. There, he met the other two professors, the archbishop, and her advisor.

Once they finally addressed the important part (that being which class he would be assigned to) he fully paid attention.

They all decided it would be best for him to choose. Byleth stared. He did not blink. He did not smile. 'Choose?'

Did it matter? He felt no special connection to any of them.

The clock ticked in the background. Suddenly the world paused. 'I. don't. care.' he thought. But he was tasked with a decision. Since there were three of them, a coin toss was out of the question. He thought then about combat abilities – axe, bow, lance.

Axe. He always found them unreliable.

Bow. Useful. His class seemed . . . different at best, though.

Lance. Jeralt's primary. The blue boy (name started with a 'D' or possibly an 'M', for now he remembered him as 'Demi') kept a sword on his hip that he had some practical experience with. He still saw his face in his mind, even though the name already vanished into oblivion somewhere.

He seemed agreeable, if not a bit of a nag.

Also, Byleth had preference to the colors blue and green. While there was more to the thought process, Byleth merely said, "Blue's a good color. The blue one, I guess."

"Ah, I'm sorry," Seteth interjecting, "Did you just make your house decision _based on color palate_?"

'Of course not' Byleth thought, but felt like egging Seteth on, "It goes well with my aesthetic."

"Unbelievable. This is outrageous! Lady Rhea, I must – "

"Hush. Seteth. Are you sure the Blue Lions, led by Dimitri, is your choice?" She asked.

"Oh right. Lions. Yeah, that will be fine."

Seteth muttered under his breath, before lecturing. A new face showed up. Young. Very small. Giant green eyes and poofy hair, like a plush doll. They carried on as if a comedic duo.

4/23/1180 – Afternoon to Evening

He spent some time learning what his responsibilities are from the more experienced house professors. Given a task, Byleth always put the work in to deliver the best possible results.

He had to lead students in a mock battle in less than a week, with very little time to prepare or learn the students' abilities. He had a roster with names, ages, backgrounds, weapon preferences, and notable weaknesses. The most promising students were listed first in a tier ranking system. He began his focus on them and formulated a lesson plan in the library.

As time passed, he gained enough of an interest in playing this out.

He had an idea of where to go with these students, despite never meeting them. He carried on in his own world for quite some time, not caring who passed by.

Only after his eyes grew tired and his wrists start to cramp did he take a break. It was then that he realized the blue prince boy 'Demi' sat at a different table with a book of his own. A large, white-haired, dark-skinned student sat with him.

Byleth wondered if the prince knew who led his house and if he was comfortable being approached again. Byleth sensed a certain strain coming from each of the house leaders. Though they outwardly seemed thrilled by the prospect of the young professor, it was thinly veiling their own discomfort with it. He elected to wait until tomorrow to reveal this information.

He realized how much paper he used when his binder barely closed. He became somewhat agitated by how unkept it looked. He would have to go buy more materials to rectify this, or simply ask her ladyship for more folders.

As he stood, Dimitri noticed his presence and the two made eye contact.

So much for sneaking away. Dimitri awkwardly waved at him and Byleth returned with a nod. Neither of them made any more of an effort to connect and Byleth retreated before it was thrusted on them; though Dimitri did notice the oversized binder and almost was tempted to ask about it. Upon seeing Byleth flee, however, he decided not to pursue it and went back to his own studies.

4/24/1180

The next morning, Byleth met all the early bird students in the Blue Lions homeroom. They were an excitable bunch, but as they spoke frivolously to their new professor, Byleth in turn evaluated them. Some had more 'battle-ready' qualities than others – which was to be expected. He had to remind himself these were children who had never seen true combat (for the most part) and would need to slowly be introduced to that.

After the rest of the class filled in and everyone took their seats, Dimitri asked, "So, professor, what should we call you?"

"'Professor' is fine."

Again, Dimitri evaluated the worth of asking for a name. he wanted to know, for his own sake, so he said, "Yes, well. There are two other professors here. How do we distinguish you from them?"

"I'll figure it out." Byleth dropped his oversized binder on his desk and the echo bounced back loud. He turned to the chalkboard, then began writing.

"Wait, so we're just jumping right into lessons?" Sylvain moaned, "I didn't bring my materials."

"Go get them," Byleth replied. He did not turn from the board. Dimitri recognized that binder and it dawned on him what Byleth was doing for hours in the library. He was taking this seriously, to his relief.

Sylvain awkwardly stood and left the class.

"What a tool," Felix said. He had dark blue hair tied back away from his orange eyes. Despite what he said, he also looked unenthused about starting lessons.

Byleth placed the chalk down and eyed the clock, then he said, "Most of you have a primary, secondary, and specialized areas to focus on. Individually, I will help you with these, but I need you to work as a group for these 'mock battles'."

On the board, primary/secondary were listed as weapon skills and specialized were categorized as flying, armored, horseback, and authority.

"In a month or so, we'll cover weaknesses."

"Professor?" Ingrid, who had long, braided blonde hair, asked, "What would be the point of working on weaknesses? Shouldn't we focus on our strengths?"

"Normally. However, you will get to a point where in a real-life situation these weaknesses could be the difference between surviving and dying."

"Just don't get yourself in that situation in the first place," Felix said with a grin.

"That's easier said than done," Ashe, the silver haired boy next to Ingrid, said.

"What's your name?" Byleth asked, addressing the one with the smart mouth.

"A bit hypocritical for you to ask," Felix said.

"Fine. What weapon do you use?"

"Sword."

"The enemy uses a corrosive substance that breaks your sword. You're pinned. What do you do?"

"I punch him right in the nose," He scoffed.

"He's wearing armor. You just broke your knuckles and can't even wield a weapon now. He counters. Your dead."

"Pff. Fine. He's wearing armor? Would have been nice to know that in the first place."

Byleth looked at the roster. Sword and fist fighting, "That must make you Felix."

"You're not going to identify us by our skill sheet this entire year, are you?" Felix asked.

"Quite possible," Byleth changed topics quickly, "For those in armor, magic and axes work well to cut through. They are usually so focused on strength and defense, that they have very little resistance to magic. Axes have the dual purpose of being sharp and heavy, but beyond that there are specialized maces designed for this. That is an exploitable weakness."

"I see," Mercedes, who also had long hair, but a darker blonde shade, said, "So, for armored knights they are heavily defended. For Annie and me, we are the opposite."

"You'll want to stay in the back, away from the fray. Armored units are slow, unless mounted, so you could assist and retreat. Assuming there aren't reinforcements that specifically target healers and ranged attackers, staying far enough back to help will be your best bet. Reinforcements don't happen all the time, but keep in mind that they can appear."

Byleth looked up at the clock, "Take a few minutes. I've got to go get something."

He left the students to their own devices and made it toward the dormitories. He asked the guards if they'd seen a male student pass through and got directions to the dining hall.

Sylvain was chatting up a cute maid when a huge presence's shadow cast on him. Byleth folded his arms and Sylvain sensed danger unlike anything he had ever felt before.

"Strange," Byleth said, "I thought I sent you to get your materials."

"U-hhh Professor!" Sylvain faced Byleth, who had a stoic face, "I was just on my way back."

"Good. Come along."

"I-I'm not in trouble?" Sylvain stuttered.

"No. Don't let this happen again."

They walked in silence for most of the way, before Sylvain asked, "So, Professor, I bet you're a catch with the ladies. What's your type?"

"For each minute you were gone, I expect an hour in makeup work."

"W-What?"

"Or," Byleth said, "You can stop talking and we forget this ever happened."

"Y-yes sir. I'll take that option."

"Good," They were back in the classroom, "Take a seat."

Ingrid rolled her eyes, "Welcome back. Can't believe our professor wasted time collecting you."

"Don't even joke. He's . . ." Sylvain seemed out of breath, "Geez."

"What did he do?" Dimitri asked in a whisper. Sylvain just shook his head and opened his notebook.

Byleth returned to his desk and pulled out the roster. On the spot, he considered different group activities he could do to split them off in 2 – 4, so he could call up individuals and have one on one time. He made note of this, then continued from where he left off.

To himself, this was simply him learning how to teach. To the students? They feared what Byleth noted. Was it an assessment? Was it good or bad?

"Horseback riders tend to have the same weaknesses as armored knights with the ability to move faster; but Pegasus knights have their own special weaknesses and strengths. They are more versatile and can quickly pick off the weak from any direction. They are usually fast and hard to hit. Magic isn't the most effective against them, either. However, a well-aimed marksman can ground them fast. Especially ballista."

Byleth continued to break down strengths and weaknesses, moving from specialized sets to the primary weapons. He went over the basic strategic points of each weapon, and what to avoid. Basically, the first class was a major overview. When the students asked questions, he did his best to explain and encourage open discussion throughout the lecture.

Late Afternoon

The class ended. Byleth was as happy as the students to be free of lecturing. He sat down and created group activities based on his scribble from earlier.

Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix stepped out into the courtyard.

"Whew," Sylvain sighed, "Glad that's over."

Felix scoffed, "Are you still spooked? What did the professor do?"

"I would like to know as well," Dimitri merged into the group. Felix's expression contorted in disgust.

"I'm inclined to agree with whatever the professor did," Ingrid smirked, "But, if he crossed a line, we should address his now. He didn't lay a hand on you, did he?"

"No, no, nothing like . . . that," Sylvain struggled, "I mean, I did use the time to sneak away. I admit it. But the way he looked at me."

"Did he threaten you?" Dimitri folded his arms.

"With hours of homework – no bodily harm or threat of bodily harm."

Dimitri shook his head, "Then he did nothing out of line?"

"Pretty much. He just – it's almost like he was – eh, forget it."

"No. I want to hear this. It's my responsibility to this class to make sure everything goes well. Relations between students and our professor, included."

"Hrk," Felix waved them off, "I'm going to train now."

"He's as rude as ever," Ingrid sighed, "So, what actually happened, Sylvain?"

Sylvain waited for Felix to round the corner before saying, "Well, it's just. . . He came to find me because it was his obligation, but I'd almost prefer him chewing me out instead of . . . just not reacting. Like, I wasn't worth his time to react."

". . .Ah," Dimitri knew exactly what Sylvain meant.

"That's all?" Ingrid teased. She did not understand, though.

"Yup. Pretty pathetic," Sylvain shrugged.

"I'll try to talk with him," Dimitri said, "I spent some time with him, and I can absolutely see where you're coming from."

"Huh?" Sylvain lit up with surprise, "Guess I should be glad I'm not the only one."

"Really?" Ingrid wondered, "He seemed friendly enough . . ."

"Well, I won't let him make me feel like this again. Who really cares what he thinks?"

"I don't think that's the right attitude to have," Ingrid shook her head. Sylvain dismissed her.

"Ugh, got to go," She ran off when Dedue approached the small group. Sylvain watched her skirt off and said, "She really can't get over it, can she? Eh. I'll see you around."

Dimitri peered into the classroom and saw the professor working on his notes. Dimitri formulated a plan to approach the professor. He wanted to address something less confrontational before Sylvain came back to the classroom shaken.

"Professor," He called, collecting the articles he wanted to deliver, deciding to break the ice more.

"Hmm," Byleth acknowledged without looking up.

"I wasn't sure how much the other professors told you," He handed him a few sheets, "But this might help you."

Byleth took it and looked it over, "These are the normal structures for lectures. You seemed to have followed it well enough. Also, on the next page, are the examinations."

"Interesting," Byleth said, "Thank you."

"I figure we're in this together. I'll help you if you run into any problems. With structures, events, student relations, conduct – "

"Actually," Byleth cut in, "Do you have a terrain layout of the mock battle?"

"Yes," Dimitri confirmed, "But I'll have to go get it. Will you still be here?"

"For a while."

"Okay. Dedue and I will be back," Dimitri left. Byleth enjoyed the silence for a moment, before working on his lesson plans.

As they promised, Dedue and Dimitri returned with the map. Byleth pinned it to the board and studied it intently, though he realized the other two studied it along with him.

"There's open field, but there's also a lot of trees," Byleth observed, "We'll have to be mindful of how the other houses utilize these areas."

"Claude would take the forests more than Edelgard," Dimitri agreed, "If we pull ourselves into the forest too much, we will run into movement issues."

Byleth nodded.

"It would be a good back up plan, if things go south," Dimitri countered his own point, "Retreating into the forest could provide that protection."

"Do we know our placement?" Byleth asked. Dimitri shook his head.

"It is random each year, and only at the field will that information be disclosed to us. Um, professor – while I appreciate your enthusiasm, our class is not scheduled to meet until after the mock battle completes. I can call everyone for a strategy meeting if you want."

"Oh? Why would they have a mock battle, but not schedule time for the houses to get together?"

"It's mostly a formality. We are all starting this year fresh. Most students are still unpacking and making last minute arrangement. It gives those of us who are already situated a chance to assess our strengths. It's also possible that they want to assess you as well."

"I see," Byleth kept his eyes on the map.

"Professors also rotate, from what I understand. Next year, you might be assigned a different house."

"I don't know if I'm staying that long," Byleth answered, "I haven't planned that far ahead."

"Oh, I – let's just focus on the mock battle." Dimitri became flustered and fumbled on what to say. The professor offered no additional comment while staring vacantly at the board.

Dedue, who normally only spoke when required, pushed the stagnated conversation forward, "How many units are we allotted?"

The professor side eyed Dedue, not expecting to hear this new voice and waited for Dimitri to answer.

"O-oh. Right," Dimitri recovered, "Not too many, I'm afraid."

"Any thoughts on who should participate?" Dedue asked.

"The Professor and I are mandatory," Dimitri nodded, "Three others are allowed."

"Only three?" The professor seemed genuinely surprised, though his facial expressions hardly changed. Byleth erased the board and drew a horizontal line, splitting it in two equal halves.

"Let's figure out who is all available and go from there."

They listed all participants and their primary (and secondary if existed) skills in the lower half. They discussed different possible formations and strategies, drawing five circles and filling them in on the upper half.

Dimitri felt his confidence increase by expressing his own knowledge on these tactics, as well as giving an evaluation on his classmates.

They discussed in earnest on whether it was crucial to have 'back row' units in a battle so heavily restricted, as there would be very little means to protect such a user.

They narrowed down who they wanted on the field in the upcoming contest and made a new sheet based on this.

"Your Highness. Professor," Dedue interjected as the professor wrote down their strategy, "We can continue this another time. We should make it to the dining hall."

"Oh," Dimitri nodded, "Right. We did get a bit carried away. Professor, you should join us."

"Yes. Let's discuss this at dinner."

"Or," Dedue said, "We could discuss that tomorrow and let it rest for the night."

"I wonder if the market is open," Dimitri accidently dismissed Dedue's suggestion.

"Let's go tomorrow, if it is," The professor packed up his folder, then realized how impractical it would be to have it at dinner, "I'm going to stop by my room, first. You two can go on ahead."

"Where are the professors' rooms?" Dimitri asked.

"Didn't I see you leaving from a student dorm room?" Dedue corrected.

"Yes."

"I see . . . The living quarters and the dining hall are right next to each other. We can walk together," Dimitri offered, "Besides, I would also like to hear your thoughts on ranged weapons. Should we look for those as well?"

"Are you any good with a javelin?" They walked out of the classroom.

"I'm not sure. Haven't had many opportunities to try it out."

"I might try using a bow. Those weren't too hard to handle," The professor said.

"If we can buy them, we can go to the training grounds afterwards. Give them a test run, as it were."

"I wonder who's on cooking duty," Dedue said.

"Hmm?" Dimitri raised an eyebrow, "Ah. What's the special?"

Dedue shook his head, "Any meal would suffice, in the right cook's hands."

"Speaking of cooks. Claude was serious when he paid you that completement, professor . . . for campsite food, that soup was well made."

"Oh," Byleth squinted, "When did he say that?"

"Well, you were pretty busy. Maybe you just didn't hear him say it."

"Must be," He shrugged it off.

Dimitri's smile vanished, to Dedue's acknowledgement. They arrived at the courtyard separating the dining hall from the dormitory, and he instead said, "Dedue and I may go on ahead. We will grab a plate and save you a seat, professor."

"Okay." He split off and Dimitri watched him leave with a disapproving scowl.

"Is something the matter, your highness?"

Dimitri sighed, "It's just that he acts so indifferent. I am sure he heard Claude but chose to ignore him. It doesn't matter. Let's just get in line."

Dimitri crossed his arms. The line was still lengthy, and Dedue was glad they left when they did.

"It's still bothering you, isn't it?"

"I should just be thankful that he's working with us. It would be foolish to expect anything more."

"Were you wanting something else?" Dedue asked, "I can't imagine it's normal to become too close with professors. He is a teacher and he seems well suited for the role, as far as willing to share his knowledge. He probably isn't going to be your friend – not here or when you ascend the throne."

"You're right. Still, it might take time to get used to his approach."

"Not everyone is personable."

"True." The line did move quickly. The special for the day was poultry and rice with bell peppers.

"Not the most imaginative meal," Dedue pouted.

"Food is food," Dimitri did not care either way.

"I hope it will be enough for us."

"It'll have to be."

Dedue saw Annette, the short magic user with reddish hair, working on cutting the peppers and another student seasoning the poultry. He did not recognize messy purple haired girl who worked at the skillet, and assumed she was in a different class.

"Who is that girl?" Dedue asked, "More importantly, can she cook?"

"You should use that as an opening line." Dimitri joked. It went over Dedue's head, "And I need to stop listening to Sylvain, apparently."

"Annette is going to slice open her finger if she keeps cutting like that."

Dimitri whistled, "Let's hope not."

Dedue made more snide judgements on how the students on duty prepped the meal. They were closing in on the front. As they inched closer, Dimitri wondered about the professor's whereabouts.

They could hear Annette exclaim, "Here you go!" as she passed the plates. She reached into the bag of peppers to slice them. Once those were prepped, she handed them to the other student to cook, who in turn handed her cooked meals to plate.

". . . Shouldn't he be back by now?" Dimitri closed his eyes.

Dedue noted the pained Dimitri and attempted to alleviate his thoughts, "Give him some more time."

These locations were only minutes apart. Maybe he was overreacting. They reached the front of the line. Annette had a great big smile and two plates waiting for them.

"Can we get one more. For the professor," Dedue asked.

"Oh, sure!" She quickly grabbed the contents freshly off the pan and crafted an additional one. She passed it to Dedue and they retreated to an open table to wait for the professor to show.

"Should we begin?" Dedue deliberated.

"It'd be rude, I think?" Dimitri said, "Though it would not matter if he decided not to come back this way."

Another minute passed as they watched the entryway. The professor did not appear through the courtyard. Dedue suspected Dimitri could be correct but did not voice it.

Another minute or two passed and Dimitri's temperament leaked.

"Of all the – if he didn't want to join, he should have just declined," Dimitri glowered.

"I agree," Dedue shook his head.

"I will accept the fact he does not want to be sociable, for my own sanity. But to agree to meet with us and then not bother with it is just unacceptably discourteous!"

"Your highness," Dedue interrupted.

"Yes?" He still gritted his teeth together, showing off anger.

"He's on his way over."

The crease marks in his forehead smoothed and he could only mutter, "Oh."

The professor came from the reception hall entryway and took a seat next to Dimitri. He rested his hands in his lap and did not say anything, but had a very concerned look on his face.

"You were gone a while," Dedue observed, hoping to draw out a reason.

"Yeah . . ." Byleth sheepishly did not look either of them in the eye.

They shared an awkward silence before the professor sighed and explained, "I went too far in the courtyard and ended up at a gazebo. I didn't even know there was a gazebo . . . Then I got confused and somehow ended up at the stables. I backtracked and came across to the bridge to the chapel. I finally found the reception area and saw the dining hall from there. This place is confusing."

Dimitri stared at him for a few seconds in utter amazement, then erupted in laughter. At the situation, at the professor who appeared embarrassed, and at himself for automatically assuming the worst; he felt like an ass, but really had no way of correcting it now.

"I'm sorry," He said once he calmed down, "I shouldn't laugh, this place is like a labyrinth."

"More like a prison," Byleth muttered.

Dimitri heard him, but ignored it, "Should I guide you until you learn your way around?"

"You might have to," The professor admitted.

"I would love to," Dimitri smiled.

The professor's face finally returned to a resting neutral and surprisingly did not go back to completely stern. His blue eyes rested on the food.

'He actually looks normal,' Dimitri found himself thinking.

"Since we're all here," Dedue was the first to try his rice and poultry dish, though he immediately criticized it, "Needs curry."

"Rice needs more than curry to be good. Though it's a start," the professor agreed.

"I thought you two might have this in common," Dimitri started to eat as well, but noticed the professor had not moved, "Well, professor?"

"Huh? Oh, right," The professor picked up his utensils, "What is this, anyway?"

"Rice, poultry, and bell peppers. The meat is seasoned, at least," Dedue commented, "Still needs more."

Byleth had a spoonful of the mixed contents and brought it to his mouth.

"Wait!" A female student said, running up to where they sat. It was Annette – and she shrieked as Byleth put the spoon in his mouth. Instantly, his tongue was set ablaze very unexpectedly.

He swallowed the first bite and calmly said, "These are not bell peppers."

"Eeek! Oh no! I'm so sorry! I accidently reached in and grabbed the hot peppers when I put yours together . . . I brought you another dish to replace it! I'm so, so, so sorry!"

She placed it down next to the professor, who blinked slowly at her, "The spice completes this meal."

"Huh?"

"Actually," He slid the plate to Dedue, "What do you think? Better?"

Dedue took a bite from the spiked dish, "Hmmm," His face lit up with pure ecstasy, "Much better. May I?"

Byleth nodded and Dedue readily claimed the spicy mix, pushing his original to the side.

"S-So you're not mad?"

"Trust me," Dimitri said, "Out of everyone in this hall, you could not have picked a better target. This is actually a blessing in disguise."

"I-I don't know what to say to that. Whew. That could've ended up a lot worse."

She ran off to the kitchen and hit her shin on the way; she yelped and hobbled away, though still somehow bouncing on her way back.

"Maybe we should keep her off the battlefield," The professor commented, taking a bite out of the replacement, "Yeah. It needed the hot peppers."

Dedue glared at the professor, becoming very possessive of this new chosen dish.

"I'm not asking for it back."

"Even if you were, I don't see him relinquishing it," Dimitri chuckled.

"I'm not risking my life over peppers," Byleth shook his head.

"Huh. That was a cheeky response, professor. So, you do have it in you?"

"What do you mean?"

"That was pretty close to bantering."

"It was a statement, nothing more," A colder resting face presented itself. The walls were up once more.

Dimitri frowned. Maybe it was too soon to push for something like that from the professor. He twirled his spoon in the food.

He thought on what Dedue said earlier – about how professors seldom become friends with their students. Yet, for some reason Dimitri couldn't explain, he wanted something more from the professor other than just a stern-faced resource. Every time they got close to a normal discussion, somehow the professor found a way to shut it down.

Byleth detected Dimitri's melancholic silence, straining to navigate the complex range of emotions. Byleth's were shallow and effectively non-existent. He felt mostly slight negative emotions– annoyance being the primary, with suspicion following close behind.

Byleth was apathetic and as such he found no joy in living. Even in solitude, which he preferred, he simply slept the world away.

Preference was a good replacement word for 'enjoy'. Like the meal, Byleth had clear cut preferences to some things. He preferred training alone, but altogether he did not enjoy training. If he could forgo eating entirely, he would. He could not claim to like mercenary work, but it was something to do.

'Am I wrong?' Byleth wondered.

Something faint swelled inside him as he watched Dimitri pick at his food. He did not have a name for it, but he started to feel bad about his actions.

Byleth did not care for this new sensation, nor could he watch the pitiful display any longer.

"So, the marketplace," Byleth said, "Where is that at?"

"I can show you after dinner," Dimitri offered, though the enthusiasm was dead. Dedue looked at him, breaking concentration on eating. The apathetic nature of the professor found its way to Dimitri, who had given up on having any meaningful interactions.

". . .Okay," Byleth stopped eating as well. Dedue almost had his plate cleaned, Byleth was halfway through, and Dimitri maybe had three bites in total.

Byleth asked, "Are you not hungry?"

"Lost my appetite," He answered flatly.

"You should eat anyway," Dedue added.

Dimitri let out a long sigh. He pushed a pepper back in forth with his utensil, as a child who hated vegetables would.

"Please eat," Dedue continued, "We will not get the chance again until morning."

"Yeah," Was the half-hearted reply. Many of the other students finished and left. The tables were emptying, and the workers wanted to begin cleaning. They still had an additional plate, as well, and it would have been wasteful not to finish it all.

Dedue ate the rest of the spicy dish. Byleth, who sensed Dimitri's case of the blues had something to do with him, stood from the table and took Dedue's empty plate up to the kitchen.

Dimitri's eyes followed the professor, while Dedue's remained on the prince.

"Is something the matter?" Dedue asked.

"He said he thought this place is like a prison. I wonder what he thinks about us."

Dedue thought about it for a moment, then said, "As long as he does his job, the rest is trivial."

Byleth returned before Dimitri could say anything else. Byleth continued to eat and focused on nothing else. He must escape this awkwardness soon, so he hacked away on the task that could achieve this goal.

Dimitri started to eat as well, to Dedue's relief. The prince became aware of his own hunger once more and could not stop shoveling in food. The pair of them ate in a hurry and Dedue stared unimpressed at the sight.

The professor finished first, simply due to having less on his plate; Dimitri did not trail too far behind. Once the food vanished, all that remained on the table was Dedue's original mostly untouched meal, which he cast aside.

"Anyone going to eat that?" Dimitri asked, his table manners lacking.

"Not me," Byleth said. Dedue stuck his nose up at it and said, "Not flavored correctly."

Dimitri shrugged and claimed it for himself, woofing that plate down as well.

Byleth gazed off into space, thinking about goddess knew what. Dedue, not required to speak at this time, did much the same.

Once done, Dimitri stacked the plates together and brought up the last of their mess to the kitchen. They promptly left the dining hall to get out of the servants' ways and left through the pond area doors.

"That way is the marketplace," Dimitri pointed off to the left. He seemed to regain some of his poise, "Still wanting to go?"

"I have to stop by the greenhouse," Dedue excused himself, "I will see you later tonight, your highness. Good evening, professor." Dedue left and Dimitri instantly felt a twinge of dread.

They were going to be alone again? Dimitri didn't know if he could handle it.

"We can go tomorrow," Byleth said, also not jumping at the thought of spending more one-on-one time with Dimitri.

"I see," Dimitri bowed, "Then perhaps I will go to my own room for the night."

He turned heel and hurriedly scampered off. Byleth watched him disappear into the second floor. Unsure what to do for the remainder of the night, Byleth went in search of his father.


	3. Rejection

Rejection

4/24/1180

Dimitri closed the door with a slam and rested his back against it. In his sprinting away, he managed to work up his heartbeat, feeling his entire body vibrate. He spent the next few minutes using breathing techniques to regulate his system.

He frowned. Despite not looking forward to the market tonight, being rejected – again – made his blood boil. He talked himself out of taking it personally, but damn did it get infuriating to be yanked back and forth like that.

He would have to cap his own desires for a personable relationship with the professor – that's all there was to it.

He drew in a deep breath and moved away from the door. He opened a notebook on his desk and flipped to a blank page.

'Ashen Demon' he wrote, then looked at the words. He internalized it for a few moments, before anger took hold once more. He tore the page out, crumpled it, then threw it at his bed. It bounced off the wall and rolled to the center of the mattress.

His own men thought of him closer to a demon, a monster, than a fellow human. And the church _let _someone like that teach young, impressionable students?

They were meant to play a symbiotic part for the time being, and Dimitri had to remind himself of that. He would continue to scrutinize in silence.

He sighed, staring at a blank page. There wasn't much to do at present. The professor did not assign homework, yet that's all Dimitri wanted to do. He came to the academy to work on his objective and was surprised at his own excitement with house activities. The part of him that clung to a desire of normalcy, he supposed.

He had nothing to go on for now; perhaps that is why the academy commanded much of his time – it was a distraction, _but _it fed into his entire purpose, and was therefore an acceptable disruption.

He took out his notes from earlier. The professor taught like he had been doing that job for many years. It was hard to imagine he was a novice teacher.

He flipped to the parts he could not understand on his own (reason and faith), but could not make progress without the professor or possibly Annette.

The dorms were quiet. The others were likely still out, enjoying the last few hours of light for the day.

There was nothing for him to do in his room. No assignments, no research leads, and no personal belongings left to unpack. He felt the walls starting to close in and an anxiety attack waiting to happen.

He stood from his chair and left his room.

As he left, he and Claude locked eyes. The laidback heir smiled pleasantly at Dimitri. He greeted, "Hey, how's it going?"

"Hello Claude. It's . . .going."

"Why the grim expression? Edelgard decline your advances again?" Claude winked.

"Again? Where do you come up with such nonsense? I have not seen Edelgard since yesterday, by the way, nor do I go out of my way to find her."

"Alright, alright. No need to be so defensive," He winked, carrying on in a carefree manner, "So, how's the classroom situation going for you? My prof is the old guy with a monocle. Edelgard's the songstress. That means you got the merc, huh?"

"Did you have something important to say or . . ."

"Just making small talk. Y'know, it does seem like the two of you end up with each other a lot. I wonder why that is?" Claude smirked.

"As I recall," Dimitri said, "Neither of you wanted to be near him. Have you undergone a change of heart?"

"Well, neither did you. But we were just faster at dodging it, that's all. Now that he chose the blue lions, I'd say you two are inseparable."

"Wait? Did you say 'chose'?"

"Yeah? You didn't know?"

"No."

Claude hummed loudly, expressively thinking about something.

"How did you find out he 'chose' this house?" Dimitri took the bait, "You are absolutely sure he wasn't assigned?"

"I just love it when I have a juicy bit of information that someone – let's say, a rival – wants to hear. It makes for a great advantage, don't you think?"

"Forget it. I'll ask someone else."

"You are waaay too uptight. Fine. This bit is free. I'll charge you next time, though. I offered to help Seteth in the library and he grumbled something about a choice– apparently he disapproved greatly on _how _Teach ended up deciding."

"Teach?"

"Yeah. Prof is old guy. Teach is merc."

"Sure, if you insist. So, what about the professor's choice upset Seteth?"

Claude laughed, though not at Dimitri. He laughed at the situation, "So, Seteth says something like, 'I can't believe the Archbishop would promote that ill-mannered child as a professor'."

Claude flicked his wrist, mocking Seteth, "I ask him more details and eventually he says this, 'he chose his house based on colors! The nerve!' Yeah. Apparently Teach's favorite color is blue."

"No. I absolutely refuse to believe this story."

"Eh, believe what you'd like. If Teach's favorite color was red, we'd be in trouble, huh?"

". . .'We'?"

"I like my chances against you, even with Teach. Against Edelgard and Teach, not so much."

"How kind of you to consider my abilities, Claude. Help me with my memory here, but isn't it you who chose to run from bandits first instead of meeting them head-on?"

"That has nothing to do with this. If anything, that just shows my right to be concerned about your short sightedness. I mean, I could see you were no match for the bandits and didn't need a dead weight."

"Is that right? . . . What of Edelgard, then? She chose the same course of action as me, initially."

"She'd use you or me as a meat shield the moment things got too dodgy. I wouldn't consider her the same as you, if you want to keep yourself alive."

"How about you just worry about your own life."

"It's what I do best," He winked again, "If I'm being honest, I can't tell you what I'd think Teach'd do in a situation where he and his allies were outnumbered like that."

Dimitri was silent. He thought about the forest and their encounter with the bandits.

"You look like you have something to say," Claude snooped.

"If we were outnumbered and he had no fallback plan . . ." Dimitri repeated.

He shielded Edelgard against the leader in Remire without hesitation. He tried to convince Dimitri to flee in the forest. Did he place value his allies' lives? That's not something someone likened to a 'demon' would do.

"Well, I'm sure as his best pal, you'd know the answer to that," Claude stretched, "I look forward to seeing what he's made of."

"I notice you left me out of that equation again. See to it that you don't live to regret that choice."

"Heh. You know the only reason you're even considered is because of Teach, yeah? . . . Okay, joking! Sheesh, don't look at me with that scorn!"

"I'm curious as to why you hold Edelgard as a more worthy opponent than me?"

"You're kinda slow, you know that? Remember what I just said a minute ago? About how she'd use us as a meat shield?"

"You truly think Edelgard is like that?"

"I have no doubt. She would sacrifice a life to preserve her own. That honestly says more about her than you."

"You think you know us so well, don't you?"

"Well, I don't think you would sacrifice your allies to save your own skin. You'd probably fight until the bitter end, even if the odds were stacked against you. And that's how you'd get your friends killed. Short sightedness."

"So, that's the truth of how you view us?"

"Absolutely. No question."

"That's horrible. I can't believe you actually think that," Dimitri's brow furrowed.

"Hopefully, we'll never have to test this out and we can all be friends in the years to come. Wouldn't that be swell?"

"And what would you do?" Dimitri pushed, ignoring Claude's hollow wishes for the future.

"Run as fast as my legs can carry me, of course. I'd like my allies to do the same."

"That figures."

"Teach is still the wildcard in play. What would he do?"

"Why don't you share your thoughts? You haven't seemed to have any issues holding back such opinions so far."

He yawned in response, "I couldn't begin to guess. Well, that's enough of that for one night. Hope I didn't irk you too much. Later!"

"Claude, wait!"

Claude ran off to his room, leaving Dimitri to cross his arms and toss it over himself.

At surface level, Dimitri guessed fealty would not matter to the professor; and, as such he had no loyalty to the kingdom, alliance, empire, or the church.

From the information he had so far, he would do what he could to save his allies – due to a place of duty or morality, Dimitri could not guess.

Would he extend his prowess to a bystander who had no association with him? Not a charge to protect or an ally in arms, but someone who was truly an outsider to that dynamic?

The answer to that question was the key to whether Dimitri's opinion of him could be swayed.

"His favorite color is blue, huh?" He said, feeling bemused by the prospect. That's the arbitrary reason he became the professor to the blue lions? It couldn't be that ridiculous, could it?

He walked away from the rooms, traversing to the ground floor and the greenhouse, where Dedue likely still tended the plants. He entered, and there Dedue was.

"Done with the professor already?" Dedue asked.

"We didn't go tonight."

"Hm." Dedue gently tucked seeds into a soft patch of soil. He took a handful of fertilizer and sprinkled it over the fresh bed.

"You really like this, don't you?" Dimitri smiled.

"I do."

"I wish people would see this side of you."

"Let them have their prejudices. I worry more about your image than my own."

"One day you won't have to worry about either."

"A lovely thought," He examined a thick stalked plant and noticed a few dead branches, "Those sheers are dull. I need to get them sharpened to trim that."

"Want to go to the grindstone?"

"Not tonight. I should have another pair in my room that'll work."

"Alright. Let's go."

"Not just yet," He poured water over a different section and started to weed another.

Sun poured over the western side, spilling through the glass. As designed, the structure held in warmth and, due to the variety of greenery, the air was incredibly clean and revitalizing.

"I might be at this for a while," Dedue admitted, "Do you have other business?"

"No. Not really. Nothing I want to get into tonight, anyway."

Dedue stood and nodded. He picked up the sheers and said, "Let's get the replacement to this, then."

Dimitri and Dedue walked to his room. They had to climb the stairs and Dedue griped, "I wish my room was closer."

"Where is it, anyway?" Dimitri asked.

"Near the end, closer to the dining hall."

"Really? That's unfortunate placement."

Dedue went silent for a moment, before observing, "They might have done that to keep me away from everyone else."

Dimitri didn't answer, though he loathed to admit it could be true.

"For what it's worth," Dedue continued, "I believe there are a few other people from our class next to me. So, perhaps it is segregated by classroom."

"I hope so," Dimitri nodded.

The pair arrived. Dimitri almost went to the one on the very end, but Dedue shook his head, "It's actually this one. That's the professor's."

"Right. . . Isn't it odd they tacked him on here? I'm pretty sure the professors have their own living area."

"Age?"

"Maybe. I wonder how old he actually is? He didn't say, did he. . .?"

Dedue pointed to the professor's door and said, "Ask."

Dimitri shook his head, "Not going to happen. I've been rebuffed enough for one day."

"Rebuffed?" Dedue questioned.

"Don't worry about it. I'm thinking about it too much again."

"The professor?"

"Not just him," He thought about what Claude said. Edelgard did not recognize him from their shared time as children, and he could not hold that against her. Even still, she was rough around the edges and merely saw Claude and Dimitri both as adversaries much more than friends.

He felt isolated from his peers.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Dimitri shook his head, "It wouldn't be fair for me to vent my frustrations to you."

"If it helps you to feel at ease, then I don't mind."

He dreaded it. He wanted to talk about it, but he didn't want to sound too whiny or exposed. In this life, enemies exploited such weaknesses.

Jeralt and the professor came around the corner, chatting about something. The professor carried a crate, while Jeralt's hands were free.

"Speak of the devil," Dedue said. A chill ran down Dimitri's spine – he did not tell Dedue the professor's nickname, and it had to be a coincidence that he chose that turn of phrase, but it unnerved him all the same.

"So, this is where they stuck you," Jeralt opened the professor's door, "Eh, it's functional. Nice desk."

Byleth entered the room and placed the crate in the center but stayed only to do that. Jeralt pointed at the two students, "They're yours?"

He asked Byleth. Byleth nodded in return.

"Professor," Dimitri smiled weakly, "What was in that crate?"

"Books."

"Ah. You spent a long time in the library. I take it you're an avid reader?"

Byleth was about to brush it off, before remembering that weird feeling. He didn't hate reading. It was a productive way to pass the endless time.

"Yes."

Jeralt raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Oh. Okay," Dimitri didn't expect him to react positively, either, "What do you like to read?"

"Hmm," Byleth struggled. That is why he didn't open himself to questions – he had no idea, "Um. Educational. . ."

"Well, that means you're in the right place, then."

"That's a way to look at it. Well, if I am to be here, I intend to make the most of my time."

"If I may ask, professor," Dimitri grew bold, "it sounds like you don't actually want to be here?"

Jeralt intervened before Byleth said something careless, "They needed a professor fast, since the one planned to teach ran away in Remire. We were so gracious to help out, after all."

"Hm," Byleth clicked his tongue, "Do you know how long the walls of the monastery are?"

"Don't, kid."

"W-why are you asking?" Dimitri replied.

"Think of this as an assessment. Approximately how much rope – or say, blankets tied together – do you think it would take to scale this place?"

"Uh-Uhm," Dimitri was caught off guard again.

"Quit teasing, son," Jeralt swatted him on the back – hard – twice, "Seriously. Stop."

"Yes of course. This is only a hypothetical question that will no way ever be tested in real life application."

Jeralt groaned and Dimitri could not find a fitting response.

"My son's sense of humor. If you'll excuse us a moment," Jeralt dragged Byleth away by the elbow. Away from them, Jeralt scolded, "What was that, just now?"

"A hypothetical."

"Don't get smart with me. Are you trying to make certain the Knights of Seiros are breathing down your neck 24/7? What if those brats go and tell someone what you just said?"

"I was only," He paused, trying to find the right word, "bantering."

"You never banter. And you don't read, either."

"I do now."

"Ugh. Just, no more talk about scaling the walls, please? Especially if you're serious about attempting it. It won't work, these walls are too steep for you to ever have enough material. It'll just be suicide."

"I saw windows. If I can make it to the ledges, unhook and reapply the grapple – "

"Oh my – please just stop. You're making my head hurt."

"Unrelated, where do they keep the linens?"

"I'll see you later,"

"No, I need a rag for those books."

Jeralt walked off, ignoring Byleth. Dedue retrieved the sheers he needed and mentioned, "It won't be the most interesting thing, watching me trim. Why don't we plan to meet up tomorrow?"

"I could lend a hand," Dimitri said. Dedue worried about leaving his delicate plants in his highness' care but did not want to offend him by vocalizing his worry.

"I know next to nothing about plants," Byleth said, inviting himself in on their plans.

"Well . . . neither do I," Dimitri decided to let Dedue go on his way, "I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Of course," Dedue left and Byleth entered his room, leaving Dimitri struggling with what to do now. The professor left the door wide open and began to sort through his books.

Dimitri watched from the outside. The carpet and bedspread were grey, not blue as he would have thought.

Thinking of blue, Dimitri asked sheepishly from the door frame, "So, I hear your favorite color is blue."

The professor flipped through a book and set in on the surface by the window. He asked disconnectedly, "Where did you hear that?"

"Claude. Who heard it from Seteth . . ."

He slammed the next book shut, setting it on the ledge as well, "Seteth."

The professor repeated. Did this news upset him? Byleth looked at him, but Dimitri could not discern what he was thinking.

"Which one is Seteth again?" He asked. Dimitri felt his head droop, shaking it profusely.

"The advisor. Green hair and green eyes."

"I thought that was the archbishop."

"No. Well, yes. Seteth also has green hair and green eyes."

"I don't recall."

"I take it you're not one to remember names and faces," Dimitri felt himself judging again.

"I don't remember a lot of things," The professor admitted without a hint of shame.

"That's not something I want to hear from my professor. Do you even know the archbishop's name?"

The professor shook his head.

"Do you know mine?"

The professor really started to think. He eyed the folder on his desk, fishing for a lifeline.

"Oh, no you don't!" Dimitri sprinted from the doorway and grabbed the folder, "You are not cheating. What's my name, professor?"

Dimitri did not hide his anger. He had enough of the professor's negligence.

The professor's inner dialogue went something like, 'Demi. Demi. D. M. DM. MD. Mitt. Di. Mi. Mmmm'

"Dah," He focused on the few times this prince said his name. He wasn't paying attention, of course, so his recollection was unreliable.

"'Dah' _what_?"

'Dah . . .Mi. A.B.C.D.E.F.G.H.I.J.K.M. '

"Dah mi?" Byleth bought himself some time.

"Da – mi – what?" Those eyes stormed with a rage, threatening to crackle unless Byleth supplied the correct answer. The professor fell silent, racking his brain for the answer.

The longer it took, the more Dimitri glowered.

His thoughts went like, Demi. Mi. Mi. N.O.P.Q.R.S.T'

Something clicked into place. A familiar letter.

'Ti. Re. Trey. Do. Me. Ti're. Dome tri.'

". . . Dimitri?"

Dimitri's inner turmoil hushed; the storming tempest left without so much of a hint that it was ever there, "Huh. You got it right."

He placed the folder back on the professor's desk and murmured, "I'm actually, genuinely surprised that you were able to come up with it."

"Do Me Ti Re," The professor repeated in a gentler voice, "Like in music."

"Huh?" He felt blood rushing back to his cheeks, but for a much different reason, "Wh-what did you just say?"

"Solfège," He explained, "Do. Re. Mi. Fa – "

"I'm familiar with the concept." No one ever made the comparison though.

He did not know how to feel about this. Flattered? Distressed? Was the professor hitting on him?

"I didn't take you to be knowledgeable in music," Dimitri muttered.

"You would be correct. I've never heard music before," Byleth said.

"Oh, come on," Dimitri said, his face felt hot; the rest of him, too, "Everyone has heard music."

"I can't remember a time that I have."

"Let's pretend for a moment that's true. Then how do you know about solfège?" Dimitri attempted to call the professor out on a falsehood.

"One of the other professors helped me understand."

"Y-You just learned all of that recently? This isn't a joke?"

"Yes. Sometime after you left for your room. So, maybe thirty minutes ago."

He knelt over his books, looking for the manuscript and found a thin music theory primer. He opened it to the first page with a basic harmonic scale; the notes with Do Re Mi Fa So La Ti So were spelled out beneath the staff, "I can hear this. I couldn't before."

"What do you mean?"

"When I saw this the first time, I had no idea what it was for. Even without her here singing it, I can hear what these dots should sound like."

He left the book in Dimitri's hands and grabbed a blank sheet from his desk. He dabbed the quill in the ink and on the page, he drew five horizontal lines and four black spots with a tail and a flag; representing notes in the order of:

'C' 'E' 'B' 'D'.

Beneath each equivalent note:

'_Do' 'Mi' 'Ti' 'Re'._

The professor placed the quill in the ink bottle, leaving the page on the desk to dry. Surprise could not begin to describe the expression on Dimitri's face. He stared at the professor like he was the strangest being in all of creation.

"When I look at you, this is what I will hear. I will not forget your name again."

And then the professor carried on organizing books like he did not just drop a bombshell on Dimitri's entire reality. His heart thundered in his chest. He had to look elsewhere, away from the music sheet.

'This is so awkward,' Dimitri thought. There was not much else in the room to distract him. Curious, he read the titles the books and realized they were all musical and/or faith oriented. The professor sorted them in three stacks, cleaning them off as he went.

"Where did you get all of those?" He asked.

"She gave them to me," He dusted one particularly grime covered book, "She said she hadn't touched these in years. Some of them look it, too."

"Ah," He chuckled, "I suppose you've forgotten 'her' name as well?"

He shook uncontrollably. His body temperature had not come back down, and his pulse would not quell.

"Yes."

"You're talking about the professor, Manuela, right?"

"Yes. That's her."

Dimitri laughed again, masking his uncontrollable quivering, "We really have to do something about you forgetting everyone's name."

Once Byleth emptied the crate, he threw it outside out of his way. Turning around, the professor noticed Dimitri still had the music book.

"Oh, I can take that back," He held out his hand for the primer. Dimitri felt the book slip between his fingers, and the professor's fingertips brushed against his knuckles.

He had a strange mix of sensations stirring –something like enflamed bewilderment, not truly understanding what just happened, but being stimulated by it all the same.

He watched the professor line these books up on the ledge, standing them in a row after dusting and scraping out crumbs he failed to remove the first time.

The gesture the professor pulled would be romantic by any sane standard. Arguably, it was one of the grandest that Dimitri ever received. Even so, as far as Dimitri could tell, the professor only did it because he drew an analogue. A mnemonic, a tool simply to remember.

_Domitire._

He started to burn again. Dimitri questioned his sanity if the situation at hand evoked such a powerful response. In that moment, he felt relieved the professor fixated his attention on books.

He walked to the desk and picked up the sheet of paper, admiring the professor's hidden artistic ability. The letters were neatly italic, and the flags on the notes had a beautiful curvature; all four of them matched in size and shape. All the straight lines were immaculate, and the staff spacing was accurate to itself.

It looked like a professional mapped out the first draft of a basic composition, but barely began. Sure, it lacked other key components like time signature and key, but everything present was masterfully crafted.

The professor had to be lying – there was no way he could just have heard of music today, let alone understand its concepts in a thirty minute or less lecture. This might simply be his unusual idea of a joke.

Dimitri could verify the story with Manuela or even Jeralt to disprove that nonsensical story.

He inwardly sighed. Why go to such lengths for a lie? The drawing alone showed ingenuity that would be cheapened by a crass gag. He could not even pick up on the romantic nuances in spelling out someone's name through music.

"He called the notes 'dots'," Dimitri thought. As impossible as it seemed, nothing about that interaction pointed to the professor being deceitful.

The professor only did it because of a coincidence. And it was certainly plausible that he understood the concept but lacked the knowledge of technical terms. That did leave him curious how 'notes' was an overlooked term, but solfège stuck.

Then again, it was the professor – who demonstrated selective hearing frequently.

Dimitri found himself frowning again. The professor already forgot the exchange, no doubt, and would never give it a second thought. He was better off doing the same.

But what to do with it? Dimitri did not want to explain to anyone else about this interaction but hesitated to throw it away. The gift was thoughtful, in a way unique to the professor. The only gift he might ever receive from him.

"Professor?"

Byleth looked up from his books.

"Just so we're clear . . . you do know how to spell my name? If you use this, it won't be accurate."

The professor walked over and looked at the sheet. He gently took the page and, in a fusion of italic and cursive, engraved on the top of the page, '_Dimitri_'. It resembled calligraphy and was centered above the staff.

In trying to correct it, Dimitri just made it worse. Now the composition was titled and truly appeared as a legitimate work in progress.

"That's. . . That's right," He couldn't fight it. He didn't want to draw any attention to his feelings; luckily, the professor carried on as obliviously as before. He started to cool down after telling himself over and over this really meant nothing.

Dimitri, again, waited for his name to dry; he planned to take the sheet and hide it in his room. The professor swept the crumbs into a corner. Dimitri did not see him materialize the broom, but he wasn't surprised anymore.

"You asked me something earlier," The professor said, "About color."

"Color?" Dimitri strained to focus," Oh, yes, that. Well, more like your decision to teach this house."

"Oh. That's who Satish is."

"No. Professor. It's Seteth."

"I think I remember this conversation now."

"I should hope so," Dimitri pieced together how the professor's mind worked, "it wasn't that long ago that you spoke with the faculty."

He pushed the pile into the dustpan. It was another item the professor seemed to conjure that went by Dimitri's notice.

"They wanted me to choose," The professor confirmed.

"But, is it true that you picked this on an arbitrary thing like favorite color?"

"Not really."

"Then what was? If you don't mind me asking."

Byleth went silent. Dimitri picked up on an off note and added, "You don't have to tell me. I will not pry."

Byleth looked at his house leader. He could recall vividly each interaction the two of them shared. Sure, he forgot his name, but the first 2 syllables stayed intact. He knew it was D and M. That's more than what he could claim for anyone who was not Jeralt.

He started to forget other details from the people he just met, already.

"Familiarity, I guess," Byleth said. He took the pan and emptied it into the small trash can.

"Familiarity?" His heart leapt again. If his circulation carried on like this, there would be no need to train anymore.

"There were three of you. I can't remember the other two right off hand. But I can pick you from a crowd . . ."

"That's – why?"

"I'm not sure. Oh," Byleth said, "There was another reason. You and your class happen to match skills that I have or can learn easily."

"Practicality. That makes sense," Finally, a normal reason, "Seteth was upset with your rationale, from what I heard. You might want to clear this up with him."

"I wouldn't know where to begin," Byleth said.

"Explaining yourself?"

"No, figuring out which person Setesh is."

"Seteth. Professor. It's Seteth."

'This is going to be difficult,' Dimitri thought.

"Se-teth?"

"Yes."

"Hm."

"I thought you remembered talking with him?"

"I can't see his face."

"I see a very busy year ahead of me, helping you keep everyone straight."

Byleth placed the broom and pan in a corner. Dimitri curiously glanced at the blue binder that contained his lesson plan, the building blocks for his future.

"Professor, can I ask you about your interaction with Sylvain?"

"Sylvain? Sylvain," Byleth searched internally for answers.

"The student with red hair."

"The pepper girl?"

"That's Annette," It was asinine that Dimitri knew exactly who he meant, "Darker red. Male. He left the classroom briefly for being unprepared."

"Okay," He still seemed unsure.

"He came back upset. I wanted to talk about that so we can smooth over any internal conflict."

The professor still maintained a doubtful disposition.

"I talked to him already. It didn't seem like you did or said anything particularly upsetting – but, I wanted to let you know how you came across to him."

"What did he say?" Byleth barely recalled what happened but couldn't think of anything negative.

"It's a bit complicated to explain, but the sentiment was that you made him feel like he was beneath you. Of course, I wasn't there and don't know what exactly gave him that impression. I just wanted you to be aware that you sometimes make people feel smaller than they are."

"I see," Byleth looked out the window.

"Can you think of anything that happened?"

"I will try," He still looked out the window, "If a storm blew through, this area would be soaked."

"Professor. Please focus."

Byleth could see the red hair, but other details fizzled out of existence.

"I found him in the cafeteria with a woman."

"A woman, huh?" Dimitri's eye twitched, "Did you say anything to him?"

"Not really. I just told him to follow me. Although," Byleth squinted, "He asked if he was in trouble."

"Is that when you threatened him with extra assignments?" Dimitri discovered some humor in the situation.

"No. That was after he asked me what my 'type' was."

"I think I see the full picture," Dimitri sighed.

"I'm still confused . . ."

Dimitri shook his head, "Just, when you interact with the other students, try to consider how they see you. You are in a position of authority over us, so some of us hope to gain your approval."

"Why would they want that?"

"Well . . .some people just like hearing praise."

"Was I meant to praise Sullivan in that instance?"

"Sylvain," he corrected, already tiring of this, "And, no. He meandered where he should not have, and you corrected his course."

"Then where did I err?"

This was difficult, as the professor truly lacked social awareness.

"Your approach, perhaps? As I said, I don't fully know what was said or how it was said. You could stand to loosen your facial expressions."

"Loosen?"

"Like, smile? Your eyes always seem so sharp and you tend to – to shut people down."

"Hm. Okay."

"I don't believe you did any of this maliciously, so try not to take any of this the wrong way. Just offering friendly advice . . ."

Dimitri sensed the conversation derailing. The professor did not give a proper answer, nor did anything about his demeanor change. He reassessed the professor and thought about every interaction that caused him personal grief, knowing better how he operated. It did not fully excuse the professor but gave Dimitri insight and some relief.

"It is getting late," The professor said.

Dimitri sulked instantly at his words. He forgave too quickly, reached out for camaraderie, and ended up rejected once more.

"It is," He said acutely.

"I wonder if the market is still open at this hour," Byleth completed his thought.

"I'm not sure." Dimitri still sounded miffed.

"That will have to wait, then," Byleth opened the folder on his desk and pulled out the mock battle plans.

"You. Me. Dedue. Felix. Ingrid," He tore out a blank page, "5 salves. 1 bow. 1 hand axe. 2 gauntlets. 2 javelins. Hm. That is a tall order."

"Are you ignoring everything I just said?"

"No."

"Then why don't you address those concerns first?"

"Your concerns are beyond my comprehension, for the moment."

"That right?" Dimitri's eyes narrowed.

Byleth looked up from his work and peered into Dimitri's eyes, but not with aggression or annoyance. When Byleth broke the deadlock, he flipped to a new sheet and wrote down a sequence of numbers: 5, 6, 10, 19, 35, _ , _ , _'

"Fill in the missing numbers," He demanded, handing him the feathered pen.

"What?" Dimitri pointed to the sheet, "What does this have to do with what we're talking about?"

"I went over the basics of logic and reasoning in lecture. Black magic roots itself in applying knowledge into manifestation. To know how it works, you must open your mind to patterns – math is perfect and uniform. These numbers hold a perfect and uniform sequence, unique to itself. Find that pattern."

"Where did this even come from?"

"I supplied a similar pattern earlier with a way to solve it. Therefore, using the method you learned, you should be able to provide the next three numbers."

Dimitri looked at the numbers, then back at the professor.

"You have a hard time grasping this," The professor stated.

"How do you know that?" Dimitri was caught off guard.

"I remember you making a face."

"A face?" His forehead creased.

"Yes. That one, in fact."

"You are losing me, professor. I still don't see how this is relevant."

"If I expected you to understand this after being exposed to it once, you would fail."

"I would argue that my lack of skill in a subject matter I seldom use is less impactful than your social awareness issues."

"I am aware of my own shortcomings."

"That's not . . ." Dimitri backpedaled. He did not mean to insult.

"There is very little I can do about it right now."

"Are you even trying, though?"

"I am. This is new to me, too."

"Professor," Dimitri fully backed down, "I think that I may owe you an apology."

"What for?" Byleth looked over his shopping list.

"I reacted poorly, and I should not have yelled at you. It's just, you are a hard person to read."

"I've heard that before," Byleth blinked, "I think I have, anyway."

'It's responses like that, professor,' Dimitri thought, then vocalized, "I will help you when you need it."

"I'm sure I will hear of it," Byleth folded the sheet and stuck that in his binder, "You and Set. . . Set . . ."

". . . Seteth."

"Yes. I'm sure the two of you will not hold back."

"Is that a slight at me?"

"Not at all."

'Seteth is like Byleth,'

"Ah, I see. It rhymes," The professor exclaimed.

"What rhymes?"

"Seteth with By– "

The bell signaling nightfall and curfew rang.

"You should return to your room for the night."

"Hm. Goodnight, professor," Dimitri bowed and left the professor alone. So long as the professor remembered the magic word that rhymed with 'Seteth', that was one less name he had to correct. He wondered, still, what the professor's name was.


	4. Solfège

Solfège

4/24/1180

Nightfall

Dimitri hung the black and blue uniform neatly on its hanger and dressed himself in sleepwear. He felt better about what transpired and saw harmony with his professor that wasn't there before. Without much left to do for the night, he resigned himself for whatever nightmares awaited him. He blew out the candles, smelling the trail of smoke from each stick. Only a pale light from the moon and stars allowed him sight.

Untucking the cover, he heard something light tumble off the bed. Curious, he picked the paper ball from the floor and squinted. What was this?

When he realized what it was (the note with 'Ashen Demon' written in it) he threw it toward the trash can. It missed, sinking between the wall and the bin.

He cozied up under the blankets, unable to help but smile. He tightly closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the blanket cradle him.

His short-lived merriment was interrupted with a thought – he realized the 'Do Mi Ti Re' solfège demonstration was still in the professor's possession.

He worried about someone finding it, but he could not leave his room. He would have to find a way to retrieve it in the morning.

_The market_.

The professor wanted to go, and Dimitri wanted to accompany him. He would have to find a way to steal it and never let the music sheet see the light of day again. That was all there was to it.

4/25/1180

The morning light poured in. Even in the rays of warmth, Dimitri awoke with dread. He had to remind himself where he was, what he was doing, and he was fleetingly safe.

He rolled out of bed with a grunt, not wanting to risk falling back asleep. With the rising sun came permission to roam and he would not waste a second of it. He found his footing in the orange beams, fumbling to his desk.

He blinked repeatedly to get his eyes working and read over his notes, curious about that pattern from the 'Reasoning and Magic' lecture. He wrote down what the professor put on the board, but still did not understand it.

11, 23, 48, 99, _, 409, _

23-11= 12 = 11+1 T2 – T1 = T1 + 1

48-23= 25 = 23+2 T3 – T2 = T2 + 2

99-48 = 51 = 48+3 T4 – T3 = T3 + 3

Dimitri felt his mind quit. The hamster died on the wheel. His eyes rolled back into his head and was he sure he perished. There were too many = signs in that than he thought necessary. He studied on, finding the courage somehow, though it got worse.

Tn – Tn-1 = Tn-1 + (n-1)

Tn = Tn-1 + (n-1)

Tn = 2 x Tn-1 + (n-1)

T5 = 2T4 + 4

=2 x 99 + 4

=198 + 4

= 202

11, 23, 48, 99, 202, 409, _

He exhaled in response to a building pressure headache. It was too early for gibberish – actually, he would be happy to never see it again.

Solving for the last number ended the example,

T7= 2 x T6 + 6

= 2 x 409 + 6

= 818 + 6

= 824

11, 23, 48, 99, 202, 409, 824

He closed his notes. He would never grasp that noise and could accept that. He dressed himself, readying for the day now that he tormented his mind back to reality.

Once dressed and groomed, he revisited 'Faith' to see what the professor put:

'A manifestation of will, restoration, and light derived by conviction. Emotive feelings, forged by arts and prayers, strengthens belief to the Goddess.'

That was basic, but knowing that the professor did not understand music when he addressed the subject, Dimitri forgave it. When they did cover it next, the professor would likely provide better concepts on _how _faith manifests.

Had the professor truly never heard music before? The only one Dimitri personally knew who would be impacted by this was Mercedes. If the professor misunderstood it, then she might suffer for it.

One whole day as a professor, and Dimitri already mentally tore his performance apart. He needed to exercise patience; the professor was skilled, and that mattered to Dimitri's lifelong goals. Though possessing skill did not always translate to teachability; that was the potential risk.

Judging by which areas he expanded on and which areas were blips like faith, Dimitri could tell where the professor's own strengths and weaknesses fell. He hoped to never have to use this information against the professor.

He gained nothing by doing this, Dimitri concluded, and left his room. Many of the students still slept at this early hour, and all was quiet in the hall, so he was surprised to see Edelgard at the stairs. They cordially nodded to one another on the way down.

By the greenhouse, she greeted him, "I did not want to wake the others. I hope you are preparing for utter defeat."

"Straight for it, huh? I am not planning on losing."

"I sincerely hope not! It would be a shame if you were," Edelgard chuckled, "I have no desire to crush those with no fire, so I hope you're worth the effort. I will see you around."

She left and Dimitri did not know what to make of her. Compared to the high walls the professor built up, Edelgard's towered over even his. Dimitri already found a few cracks in the professor's but still none in Edelgard's.

He walked toward the training grounds, not expecting other facilities to be operational just yet. He passed the ends of the dorms and passively wondered if Dedue or the professor were awake. Once at the training grounds, he saw Felix.

"I was waiting for a partner," Felix frowned, "I should have known it would be you."

"You can keep swinging at nothing, if that's preferable," Dimitri countered.

"Nah. Getting to strike at your face brings me some joy. I'll let you warm up first."

"You're so kind."

Dimitri warmed up, like Felix suggested, and they sparred for some time thereafter, but not before Felix warned, "If you talk, I'll just swing harder. I have no interest in conversing."

As more people joined the training grounds, Dimitri and Felix mutually decided to pursue different partners. They tired at different paces and, despite Felix beginning earlier, Dimitri stepped out first. He made his way to the marketplace and saw Ashe along the way.

"Good morning," Dimitri said, "You're up early."

"Hello. I've been so excited I can barely sleep," Ashe smiled. They were both walking the same direction.

"Where are you headed?" Dimitri asked.

"The market. I was hoping to find some books that weren't in the library."

"Ah. I'm going that way, too."

"Oh, well that's convenient. What are you looking for?" Ashe asked.

"The professor and I discussed some battle supplies for the mock battle."

"Ah, that's smart. Where is the professor?"

Dimitri shook his head, "I am not sure. I haven't seen him since last night."

"You seem to spend a lot of time together, your high – err, Dimitri."

"Is that right?" He worried about what that might seem like.

"Yes. It's good that you get along so well. It will be a good year if this keeps up, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes," Dimitri masked his own reservations. If that was the conclusion Ashe made, he would let him have it. A few of the knights gathered in the market and Dimitri recognized Alois and Jeralt.

"Oh. That's right, you probably wouldn't know," Dimitri explained, "That's the professor's father."

"So, that is Jeralt the Blade Breaker," Ashe's face lit up, "To think we'd see a true example of knighthood so early on!"

"Let's go talk to him," Dimitri suggested. Ashe seemed hesitant, gazing elsewhere. "What's wrong?"

"It-it's just – will it be a bother? He seems busy," Ashe fidgeted, "I think I see a book stall over there, anyway."

"Come on, Ashe. You admire the knights, correct? You said it yourself – a true example of knighthood stands before you. Are you really going to waste this opportunity?"

"There will be other opportunities, so," Ashe inched toward a different vendor.

"You'll come to regret this later," Dimitri encouraged, "What if this is the one and only chance you have to speak with him?"

"You – you may have a point."

"I'll do most of the talking, if you're too nervous to speak."

"O-okay," Ashe nodded. He worked up the courage and followed Dimitri to the knights. Jeralt sighed. The vendor he spoke with went back to his tent and Alois left the market, passing the pair at the stairs. Jeralt noticed Dimitri and Ashe approaching and maintained eye contact with the two.

"Good morning, captain," Dimitri said.

"H-Hello, sir," Ashe clasped his hands together.

"Morning," Jeralt said, "Can I help you two?"

"We were just going to do some shopping. Is something the matter?" Dimitri answered.

Jeralt nodded, "The vendor just informed me the next shipment will be delayed. I sent Alois on ahead to inform Seteth."

"Shipment? Which shipment?" Dimitri asked.

"Weapons, of course. Had to be. Unfortunately, if that's the shopping you meant to do, that will be impossible. All weapons in stock are reserved for the knights."

"Ah," Dimitri frowned, "That makes sense."

"We'll get it sorted quickly."

"I will inform the professor, then. We will have to make do with what we have," Dimitri nodded.

"My kid's sending you on errands?" Jeralt raised an eyebrow.

"No. We just talked about it last night and I wanted to see what was available. I was going to meet up with him later for the actual purchase but looks like that will not happen after all."

"For a moment there, I thought I'd have to have another 'talk' with him," Jeralt relaxed, "Good on you for taking the initiative. So, this one here is another student of his?" He asked about Ashe.

"U-Uh. Yes, that's right," Ashe managed to squeak out.

"Hmm. Well, you kids take care. I've gotta deal with some noise."

He walked away, showing some stress again.

Ashe sighed, "I wish I could muster up more courage to speak with him like you did."

"You just need some practice, that's all."

Ashe laughed, "I would ask what 'talk' he had with the professor. It's funny to think about, but the two of them definitely share a father and son bond."

Dimitri thought about it, "A father and son bond."

"Oh," Ashe frowned, "I . . . that was careless of me. I should have taken your feeling into consideration."

"You're right, though. About Jeralt and the professor. They are lucky to have each other."

"Y-Yes," Ashe and Dimitri walked over to the book stall. Ashe was more determined to find an engaging book, while Dimitri casually browsed the rack. His eyes rested on _Psalms of the Empire_ by Nikole Brandt, one of the bards from long ago. The book was encased by a soft crimson cover.

Ashe selected three books, flipping through the pages, gleeful over his discoveries.

"I'm not sure which one to buy," He said, "They all look promising."

"How much are they?" Dimitri chose his words carefully, remembering not everyone had infinite wealth.

"I can almost afford 2. If I can negotiate the price down," Ashe responded. Dimitri looked at the books and the prices attached: 30 gold each. To him, it was pocket change. To Ashe, however, it was a choice between entertainment and basic necessities.

"Hmm," Ashe deliberated, walking to the vendor. The smiling Ashe that Dimitri recognized disappeared, replaced by someone with ferocity. A battle of tongues ensued between Ashe and the vendor – a song Dimitri was unfamiliar with.

"Get lost, kid. I can find som'ody else to buy these," The man waved off in a cacophonous voice, "These're fine quality books."

"This book has a stain," Ashe retorted, refuting the vendor's claims. He thoroughly listed all possible things wrong with each book. Dimitri could not keep up and found himself enjoying the spectacle. The scherzo continued.

"Don' like it, don' buy it," He stressed each word.

"Fine," Ashe said, walking away in a forfeit, "Find someone else. Maybe they won't mind the crackling spine."

"Wait! Wait!" The man trumpeted after Ashe, "How's about I cut you a deal? 15% off."

"Oh, you mean the exact deal listed for a purchase of three? Where is the bargain, sir? Or were you planning on withholding that sale in hopes I wouldn't notice?"

"Of course not! Where'd ya get that idea? Er, an additional 15% off is what I meant! 30% off the total purchase! Whaddaya say?"

"30%?" Ashe mentally calculated his total, "I still don't have enough."

"Let me pay the difference," Dimitri offered.

"I couldn't ask you to do that!" Ashe refused, "It was a good fight, but I think I may have lost."

"Can't afford it, huh?" The vendor whistled, "Too bad. Maybe next time come with more change, eh?"

"That's rude," Dimitri said.

"It's just business," Ashe shrugged.

"Will you choose one of the three?"

"It's not worth the trouble."

They walked away from the market and Ashe said, "Don't worry about it, your h – Dimitri. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. It's probably better this way, as I have more important things to spend my allowance on."

Dimitri still didn't like that answer, "You seemed so genuinely happy when you picked them out. Are you sure you can accept defeat?"

"There will be other books, other sales, and most importantly, other vendors. I still need to budget classroom materials and clothes before I spend it all on hobbies."

"You said before that those books weren't in the library. You would not have bought them if they were?"

"Well, yes. That's correct."

"What did you intend to do with them after you were finished reading them?"

"Probably donate them or lend them out to friends. Maybe send them back home so my family could enjoy them. Why do you ask?"

"Ah. No reason. Just curious. Oh, if you spoke to Jeralt with that much poise, you would have nothing to fear. Channel that side of you next time and you'll be fine."

"Haha, I don't think so. It's about ripping apart what you like in order to tarnish it to the seller. There's nothing honorable about it and I doubt a knight would respond well to it, regardless."

"Perhaps. But that confidence! Well. It certainly caught me off guard. Show that fierceness at practice and on the field, okay?"

"I'm not sure that's how it works, but I will do my best. I won't take up any more of your time. Thank you," Ashe smiled and left Dimitri.

Composing a plan, Dimitri went back down to the book stall. The vendor left the books Ashe chose on the table, much to his relief.

"Back for an encore?" The vendor sniggered, "Where's that devil-tongued friend o' yours?"

"It's just me this time. Are those books still for sale?"

"They are," He rubbed his chin, "How's about 83 gold for the lot of 'em. After tax price. Gotta pay tithes 'n' all."

30 gold each. 90 in total. The vendor kept a discount in place, so Dimitri nodded and paid.

"Pleasure doing business with ya," He smiled wryly while jotting the sale in his book. Dimitri did not care for this man, but the task was completed. He headed to the library, looking over the books. They all followed a similar theme – gallant knights who used their abilities to save people.

He made an 'anonymous' donation to the historical / historical fiction sections, and Tomas sung praise for his generosity. He figured Ashe would discover them, probably soon, and requested to not be named.

None of the faculty appeared in their respective offices, he observed on his way back down. Guards blocked the audience chamber – a meeting, perhaps?

The productive morning worked up an appetite, so Dimitri went to the cafeteria. He enjoyed a hasty breakfast, rushing against time before the morning services ended. In the interval he spent eating, he did not see any other house members and considered what to do next in that unusual lull.

He mentally checked his track list. He had no reason to seek out the professor for the market, nor knew where to look for him. Classes did not gather, the professor never stated he wanted a meeting, nor did he assign any work; which put Dimitri in a wasting nightmare. He had to do something – so he defaulted back to the training grounds.

Under the shade of the trees near the benches, Dimitri saw Annette and Mercedes talking with another student he did not recognize. She had dark long burgundy hair and wide green eyes. She wore a hat with her uniform. He had some distance before he reached the girls but could hear the conversation drift downwind.

"I just can't wait for the choir practice to start," Mercedes said.

"Same! Sign me up!" Annette agreed.

"Oh, definitely," the other girl said, "I'm going to help Manuela create a sheet later this week. I haven't heard when she wants to start quite yet, though. Everyone is so busy with the mock battle – honestly, it's all anyone is talking about."

"Our house is always busy training," Annette said, "I haven't noticed too much of a difference."

"Which reminds me," Mercedes giggled, "I should probably go see if anyone needs stitched up."

"It's hard for us to get in any," Annette frowned, "Our training is a bit different than everyone else's."

"Yes," The hat wearing student said, "Hubie is a bit unapproachable at times. Lin is always napping somewhere. Having a friend help with magic is hard to come by."

"You and I could always help each other out. I guess I could always come in swinging an axe! You think that'll work?"

"Oh, dear," Mercedes straightened out her dress, "Hey, Dimitri. You should come say hello."

"Oh?" The student Dimitri did not recognize made a surprised face, "So, this is Prince Dimitri?"

"He doesn't like it when you call him that, Dory," Mercedes advised.

"Ah. Much like Eddie. Got it."

"'Eddie'?" Dimitri asked.

"Edelgard."

"Ah," He used a different nickname but could see how she came to that, "And who are you? I don't believe we've met before."

"I am Dorothea with the Black Eagles house. Hmm but what should we call you?"

"Just Dimitri is fine."

"Demi might be cute," Dorothea continued, calculating a nickname for the prince. Dimitri was less than thrilled about being called that.

"Er. Let's stick with Dimitri."

"So, Demi," Dorothea completely ignored his request, "You're in for an exciting year. Your professor is so young – I'm sure students here are going to have a hard time not getting distracted."

"Distracted?"

"I saw him roaming around the other day. Boy, is he a looker! He'll have all these young girls lined up in no time."

"I dunno," Annette interjected, "He doesn't seem like the type."

"Um, right," Dimitri disengaged, "I think I'm just going to – "

"Oh come on, I'm just teasing," Dorothea giggled, "It'll be an interesting year, regardless. So many exciting people here! I'm looking forward to it."

"Mercedes," Dimitri redirected the conversation, "What did you think about the professor's section on faith?"

"Hmm?" She looked up at the clouds, "Oh, this is why I take notes. I can't quite remember. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it seemed . . . brief. I was just wondering."

"I see. It was an overview, right?"

"Yes."

"It was short," Annette answered, "But accurate."

"Oh," Dorothea covered her mouth, "You already had a lecture with him? So serious. Manuela introduced herself and we talked a little on the upcoming event. I guess yours took a different approach?"

"I thought he did well," Mercedes replied, "Though I can't remember all the lessons just now."

"Is that why you're asking, Dimitri? Are you concerned?" Annette asked.

"A little," He admitted, "It's good to hear that you're getting something out of it."

"I don't think there's anything to worry about," Mercedes nodded, "He may have jumped ahead, but there's nothing wrong with that!"

"Well, if you're looking for a lecture in faith," Dorothea added, "you could always come join choir when it's ready. We need the male voice, too, you know?"

"That's going to be a 'no' from me. Thanks."

"It'll be fun!" She continued with a wink.

Mercedes joined in, "Oh, I bet you would be wonderful. Can you imagine the attention we'd get if the kingdom prince were to perform a solo?"

"Oh, the hearts that would melt!" Dorothea exclaimed, clenching her hands to her chest.

"Definitely not."

"But you have exactly the right qualities," Dorothea stared into his eyes, "It would be too perfect."

"Except for the fact that I can't sing."

"Manuela will make sure you can," Dorothea remarked with confidence.

"Pass," Dimitri walked away.

"You're no fun!" Dorothea called after him, then laughed.

'Women . . .' he thought to himself and continued to the training grounds.

"Just how long do you plan to sleep?" A familiar voice chided.

Byleth felt the morning rays turn into the afternoon heat yet refused to fully open his eyes. He had no answer for her.

"I want to see the world," She said, "You need to wake up."

His voice was mute. Even if he wanted to answer, he could not find it.

He realized where he sat, balled up in the corner away from her throne. He faced the vast open space below and locked onto a casket in a cross-shaped site.

"What's wrong with you!" She yelled, growing impatient, "Are you lazy? Content to just waste the days away?"

He wore just his pants. His arms crossed over his bare chest and his palms were tucked in between the folds of his breasts, pressed down by his thighs. He held something cold and hard. Whatever it was, he felt protective of it.

He opened his hands slightly and felt the cold object lax. Something pulled internally, and he coiled in reaction. The toes on his feet curled and his ankles crossed. The object was attached to inside his chest and he did not like it to move freely. Cold sweat poured down his temples.

Sothis noticed this and asked, "What is that? In your hand?"

He did not know, either.

She took a different approach and placed a hand on his back, "It's okay. You can show me."

He unfurled his back and legs, still pressing his hands to his chest. Instead of blue eyes, they were grey and clouded over.

"Let me see," She coaxed. She never saw him like this, even in the few days she had consciousness. This unnerved her greatly.

He lowered his hands, feeling the string pull, and lurched uncomfortably. Before he hugged the object back to his chest, Sothis identified it. She rubbed his back and soothed him.

"This is why you sleep so long," She realized. She closed her eyes. The pulse that beat in her kept rhythm.

1 2 3 4

1 2 3 4

She compared hers to his.

. . .

Nothing. Nothing?

She felt it. It hit twice then naught again for several seconds.

1 2 . . . . . .3 . . .4

1 . . .2 3 . . . 4

His was an irregular pace. It struggled to pulse at all. She closed her eyes and forced him to adopt hers. It had naturally for many years, she recognized somehow. It disrupted after she woke up and only just started to impact him.

'Who are you? Who am I?' She wondered.

They synced up.

1 2 3 4

1 2 3 4

"That's better, isn't it?"

The color returned to his eyes and skin – she hadn't noticed how pale he was. He gazed at his hands, afraid to move.

"It's okay," She pushed his hands into his chest and asked, "All better now?" He felt the object settle into place and took an elongated breath. She used her magic to close the cavity in his chest.

His heart was effectively useless and dead. It had been for a long time. Still, it belonged to him, attached to his being. Part of him was subconsciously aware of it, however, and it all troubled Sothis.

"Come on," She lifted him, hoisting him from behind him by gripping under his armpits. She ordered, "On your feet."

She got him on his knees before his height made it impossible for her to lift any more. She hovered and centered herself in front of him, grabbing his forearms and lifting him completely to his feet.

He rose with her, so it was not much effort. He swayed, not wholly aware of himself.

"You are but a lost child, aren't you?" Sothis asked. She felt his energy waver, "You are one breath away from being snuffed out completely."

His arms, no longer cradling the dead heart, rested to his side. She saw a scar over his bare chest – did that carry over to his physical form as well?

She sighed, "You have no intention of waking, do you? Come on, sick thing. Sleep now so we can adventure tomorrow . . ."

She took his hand and led him to the throne, where she sat on the arm. He took a prayer position, returning his hands to his chest as a protective instinct and sitting on his knees. He laid his head on the seat and closed his eyes. She yawned and stretched out on the arm, her diminutive body perfectly fitting on the stone slab.

Dimitri bathed after working up another sweat and prepared his uniform for a wash. He wore a black cotton tunic, black tights and retained the blue cape, but ditched the heavier items. He placed the unused ensemble (gloves, gauntlets and armor) in his room.

He and Dedue crossed paths just outside the end dormitories.

"How did supply shopping go?" Dedue asked.

"It didn't. the marketplace is not selling weapons to students. Although, I have not seen the professor all day, anyway."

"I see."

"I still need to show him around, so he doesn't get lost anymore. I wonder if he forgot."

"I don't know," They both glanced at his door, "Should we check in?"

"I don't know," Dimitri echoed.

"You see if he's in. I'll go get us a seat for lunch," Dedue decided.

Dimitri breathed in and said, "If I must."

"Still that bad?"

"Not really. We had a decent talk yesterday."

"Then what's the matter?"

"I just," Dimitri paused, "I never know what to expect from him. Just bracing myself for whatever."

"Would you like me to stay with you?"

"Um. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, you can go save us some seats," He did not want Dedue to see that music piece, "I'll be fine on my own."

That only made Dedue suspicious. He folded his arms, "What's going on, your highness?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Right. On you go. If we're not back by the time you get food, just go ahead without us. I promise I will eat."

Dedue relented (satisfied knowing the prince promised to eat) and walked off, but he no doubt would question it later. Dimitri hopped up the steps, knocked on the door and called, "Professor?"

No answer. He waited a few more seconds before knocking again. He turned the knob, assuming it to be locked. Unexpectedly, the door easily swung open.

He saw the professor's armor on the seat of the chair, and the coat hanging off its back. Curiously, he looked further and saw one gauntlet thrown onto the neat and ordered books, the other under the desk.

His boots were likewise kicked off in two directions – one was on the rug and the other beside the doorway.

Something about that seemed amiss. Dimitri could not say for certain, as they only just met, but he had him pegged for a tidy person. This haphazard tornado of clothing pieces proved contradictory to that theory.

He invited himself in and saw the professor laying on the covers. He slept on his side, his bare back facing Dimitri. His body curved and a sharp spine exposed itself on the arch. His knees were brought into his abdomen (he wore pants) and he hugged his pillow to his chest.

"Professor?" Dimitri said, "It's nearly 1 in the afternoon."

Dimitri approached the motionless body. Something surreal washed over him. Something unnerving. He danced around the lone boot and reached for him.

He hesitated. What would happen if Dimitri touched him? Would he flail in response? Or maybe he died in his sleep and Dimitri found the cold corpse – because of course that would happen to him . . .

Pushing the worst-case scenarios from his mind, Dimitri grabbed the professor by the shoulder. Even though his back was toned, his skin felt soft– Dimitri expected it to be coarse, not silky and warm.

The professor fidgeted against his hand, only tensing up slightly before opening his eyes. They strained in the corners, identifying the source of the touch. Upon recognition, he strangled the mid-section of the pillow and buried his face into the plush, seemingly satisfied that it was not an enemy.

"Professor," Dimitri said, relieved, "You probably should get up before you ruin your sleep routine."

He pushed himself up with one hand and held the pillow steady with the other.

"I'd say 'good morning', but we're a bit passed that," Dimitri joked. The professor's face was more stern than usual. Frustration lines set in around the eyes, mouth, and forehead. Dimitri feared he overstepped.

"We were supposed to go to the market today, remember? I'm afraid we won't be able to buy the weapons you wanted. Shipment's been postponed."

The professor nodded. Were his eyes always grey?

"Should I leave you be?"

He shook his head.

"Why don't you get dressed and meet me in the cafeteria? Oh, but you might get lost again."

The professor closed his eyes and his face drifted into the pillow.

"You're not ready to wake up just yet, I take it?"

The professor grunted, but straightened his back and stretched like he accepted Dimitri's recommendation to rejoin the land of the waking. The pillow slipped out of the fold of his arm, toppling to the floor with a hushed plop.

It exposed a decent sized scar over his heart. The scar was white with pink in color, and the surrounding skin was red and purple, like it was irritated and bruised. He placed a hand over it, not too keen on the air brushing it.

"I'm sorry," Dimitri said, "I didn't realize you were hurt."

'A wound like that would be near fatal,' he thought, 'he must really be resilient if he survived that.'

Dimitri looked at the crease marks on his face again. Those weren't from frustration, he suspected, but pain. The scar was not newly bleeding; the pink-white color suggested it had ample time to heal, but the bruising made it appear fresher or at least agitated.

"Hm. You look flushed. Are you okay? Do I need to get you to the infirmary?"

The professor stood from his bed, took a step, then fell. Dimitri caught him before his knees crashed into the floor.

Dimitri lifted him back with ease and kept him steady, noticing for the first time how slender the professor was. His forearms, resting on Dimitri's for support, seemed much more delicate in comparison. The professor's eyes were blank and grey, not focused on anything.

"Professor? Can you hear me?"

He nodded.

"Can you stand on your own?"

The professor slid his arms away from Dimitri's and lowered them to his side. The discoloration around the scar began to disappear as Dimitri watched, though he did not trust what he saw. The professor took in a deep breath, then looked around his room, saying, "What a mess."

"So, you can talk, that's a relief! Are you feeling better?"

A pair of dark blue eyes locked with Dimitri's – the color he thought they should be. The professor blinked a few times and the crease marks on his face and the clouded film over his eyes vanished.

"Better? Yes. I think so."

"What happened? Is that scar irritating you?"

"Scar . . ." He stroked at it, then gasped. He pulled the blanket up and searched for something, all while holding the wound.

"Professor? What are you –" The professor stopped and appeared to be thinking.

"Must've been a dream," He concluded.

"What was the dream?"

"My," He clawed into his chest, ". . . it doesn't matter."

"Should I walk you to the infirmary? You do still seem a bit unwell."

"No. There's no cure for a bad dream," He responded.

"I guess that's true," Dimitri knew it all too well.

He started collecting the scattered attire, starting with the boots and putting them on. Knowing the drain nightmares had on the body, Dimitri insisted, "You can talk to me, if you'd like."

The professor stared at the floor after sliding the second boot on.

"You are a talkative one," He said.

". . . Right, yes. Am I bothering you? I can leave, if that's what you wa –"

"No, that's not it. I can barely keep up."

"Keep up?"

"Market. Lunch. Infirmary. Bad dream. That's four different topics before I've even put my shirt on."

"Oh," Dimitri chuckled, "You want me to slow down, is that it?"

"One thing at a time. At least I have pants on, otherwise this would be embarrassing."

At the professor's words, Dimitri glanced at his legs. They were astonishingly thin as well. He had muscles, but not as much as Dimitri would have guessed. The word 'frail' came to mind.

'The professor's not frail,' Dimitri thought.

The professor put on a black shirt, but like Dimitri, decided against the heavy gauntlets, knee brace, or plated armor and coat. They were both very casual in appearance.

"I'll have to clean that later," He said, scowling at the disheveled room.

"It's not that bad. But what happened?" Dimitri asked.

"The last thing I remember was a sharp pain in my chest . . ."

"You threw off all your clothes to get comfortable?" Dimitri guessed, "Maybe you should have gone to the infirmary then? I was with you until curfew – how long after I left did this happen?"

"I don't remember."

On the desk, the professor's blue binder was opened. A half-written page had a black splotch in the center – the quill was lying next to it, as well.

"Your pain leaked into your dream?" Dimitri asked.

"It must have," The professor agreed.

"You don't seem overly concerned about it, anymore."

"It's passed. Both the dream and the pain. There's no point in wasting time thinking about it," The professor paused, "I should thank you. Had you not woken me up, I might still be dreaming."

"Oh – I, um . . ."

"Should I expect this every day? For you to come wake me?"

"O-only if you're late again," Dimitri stammered. What was this stirring?

"I see. I'm sorry that I made you wait."

"Don't be – it's understandable, as you were in pain . . . but, has it really passed?"

"It's not burning anymore. I wonder why . . ."

Dimitri didn't understand it all, either, and asked, "How long ago did you get that wound?"

"Wound? I don't think that's what this is. I've always had this scar – my father called it a birthmark."

"A birthmark? But that's – well, if that's what your father said, then I guess that's correct."

'That's most certainly not a birth mark,' Dimitri frowned.

"I don't know. He could be lying," The professor nodded, "But, I've always had this scar . . . and it's never hurt before."

"Doesn't that concern you?"

The professor crossed his arms, "It should. It does."

"If nothing else, you should talk to Jeralt about this. Especially if you do go out to battle soon . . . though being a professor here, I'm guessing the chances of that are low."

The professor nodded.

"I can show you around, after lunch. I wonder if Dedue's finished by now . . ."

"Ah. Right. Time for an adventure," The professor said.

They left the room and into the courtyard. Voices chattered throughout and the world bustled as lively as ever. The professor paused, listening to all the sounds. Dimitri watched him curiously. The professor eyed a branch of a tree and stared at it.

"What is it?" Dimitri asked.

"So," He said, "even the birds sing."

Dimitri listened in as well – they were tweeting back and forth, as springtime birds did. All the noise made it hard to pinpoint, but that didn't matter. Byleth listened to each as if these sounds held meaning for the first time in his life.

The laughter of students. The tweeting of birds. Even the whistle on the wind. The fragrance of the cafeteria drew him back in and he felt hungry.

He looked at his companion – a familiar face. Had anyone else stumbled upon Byleth, as vulnerable as he was, he would have viewed them as a threat. Instead, a soft jingle played in his head and with it a calm. A name.

"Dimitri," He said, "I'm ready for lunch."

"Same," He smiled, thinking, 'You remembered'.

The professor was a bit of a mystery – every new interaction came a new piece of information. And none of it ever made sense. Dimitri left his concerns for later and appreciated this gentle side of the professor.


	5. Order, Rule, and Protocol

Order, Rule, and Protocol

4/25/1180 – _Evening_

"Well, that's Garreg Mach. Do you think you'll be able to find your way around now?" Dimitri asked the blank faced professor outside the entrance hall, both donned with soft clothing and absent armor.

"Probably not."

"Hmm, I'll just have to escort you until you can. I didn't expect you to be so easily turned around."

The professor stared through the gates leading to the outside town. A frown deepened and his eyes turned to toward the fishing pond, where the sun lingered to set.

Dimitri kept an eye on the professor's health, hoping whatever happened earlier that afternoon was a fluke. The professor carried himself with as much composure as usual; but even still Dimitri worried about his wellbeing. While they spent time together, he also speculating what nightmare could afflict the professor.

"That's south," The professor said, pointing to the gates and interrupting Dimitri's thoughts.

"Is it?" Dimitri looked at the sun's position and worked his way back. After confirming the professor's statement, he said, "So it is."

"I'm not sure why this place has me so lost."

"All the walls look the same," Dimitri agreed, "Even using pointers, if you don't know the layout of the monastery, you're not going to know where to go."

"Pointers . . ." He started to think, pressing his knuckles into his chin, "I just need new ones, then."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I can find the greenhouse and pond easily enough. The market and the dining hall after that. That's all south . . ."

"I see where you're going with this. From your room, head north until you reach the large doors – that's the training grounds. If you turn there, you will see the officer's academy. That's northeast. Should we walk and see what else you've retained?"

"We can. I should learn this quickly," Yet there was no urgency in his voice. His elated senses eventually dulled back into routine and he fell into his reputation of being emotionless. Dimitri picked up on this, as well. He wished to see a smile, just once, on the professor's barren face. He swore that he would.

Turning toward the setting sun, the two retraced their steps. A higher-pitched masculine voice called from the behind, "Hey!"

Byleth would have simply ignored it by habit, but Dimitri reacted and made eye contact. It was a pair of men and they were dressed like Jeralt's Mercenaries, judging by their equipment.

"There you are!"

Byleth now gave them attention and they conversed near a stack of crates close to the fishing pond.

"Your father wants you."

"Oh. Where is he?" He asked.

"Outside the town – bandits are causing a ruckus and he wants you to lend a hand."

"I think not. Get the knights to help," Byleth remarked and caused an instant anger in Dimitri.

"Professor, that's your father your speaking so standoffishly about! He requested you, specifically – don't you feel obligated to help?"

"Listen to him," one of the mercenaries scratched the back of his head, "and don't bite the head off the messenger."

"If a battle is ensuing, then the knights should be notified first and foremost. You are wasting time."

"You really are what they say you are," one of them replied dumbfounded, then readied a retreat toward the market. Byleth stalked them, trailing silently behind. They traveled down the steps, away from those who could lend a hand.

"Leaving so soon?" Byleth interrogated, "I thought you needed assistance?"

"Gotta let the captain know . . ." One muttered feebly, and they quickly fled. Dimitri tore into the professor immediately.

"What was that about? Are you seriously refusing to aid your own father – your family? That's insanely low."

Byleth deliberately ignored the tantrum, and instead approached the knight standing watch by the entrance, "Did you see the two mercenaries we were talking with?"

"Oh? Hey, you're the new professor! Yes. Strange that they left so soon, they had only just arrived."

"Did Captain Jeralt leave the monastery today?"

"Yes, actually! He and Alois went to investigate a lead on the missing shipment. They have not returned yet."

"Did they have anyone traveling with them?"

"Now who's wasting time?" Dimitri challenged, but Byleth motioned to silence him.

"Four knights. Why?"

"Understood," Byleth peered into the entrance hall for more soldiers on duty and beckoned them closer, "You would recognize those two if they returned, correct?"

"I would," The gatekeeper said.

"What's this about?" One of the two joiners asked.

"If they return, detain them. I do not know who those two were, but they were _not _my father's men."

"You're sure about that?" Dimitri asked.

"Positive. My father would have instructed them to seek whomever was closest. They would have then passed at least one viable ally to find me. And the gatekeeper just confirmed that none of my father's mercenary band went with him, so he could not have given them orders in the first place."

"But why would they – " Something clicked into Dimitri's mind midsentence, "They wanted to lure you in a trap."

"That's what I concluded," Byleth confirmed.

"I'll inform the folks in the market and try to clear the civilians away," one of them nodded at Byleth's logic. The other two remained at the top of the steps.

"Dimitri, come with me."

"Wait a moment. Even if your conjecture is correct, we are still moving away from your father who is in real danger."

"Going in without a plan will get someone killed. I need to inform the Archbishop. Take me to her, I can't remember where the stairs are."

"You could actually walk away and let someone else handle this . . . very well, professor."

Dimitri, despite having mixed feelings on the situation, led the professor to the second floor. In a scenario like this, the worst course of action would be to leap right into danger with no contingency plan.

"Do you think these are the bandits we crossed in the forest?" Dimitri asked.

"In the forest," Byleth had to think about it for a second, "Oh, yes. Them. That would make sense."

"I wonder about that mind of yours," Dimitri commented.

"What do you mean?"

Dimitri bit the inside of his cheek, then explained, "You could tell those men were suspicious on limited dialogue. You then startled them away and alerted the soldiers, also in a short time span. But you forgot that not even a week ago, you were vulgarly threatened?"

"I'm always threatened," Byleth shrugged.

"You're kind of terrifying at times," Dimitri said on impulse, though he immediately regretted it. Byleth said nothing and they rushed along in a terribly awkward silence.

A pair of knights guarded the audience chamber doors. When Byleth and Dimitri approached, they stated, "The Archbishop is in a meeting and cannot be disturbed."

"Who is available?" Byleth asked.

"I can leave a message," the knight offered.

"A pair of suspicious individuals claimed to be my father's mercenaries. If they return, I have given orders for their capture."

"Understood. I will escalate then," He left his post and Dimitri gave the professor a very unsatisfied look.

"What?" Byleth asked. Dimitri pulled him aside.

"'Escalate' usually equates to 'it will be passed around until the problem is passed the point of salvaging."

"I see your point," Byleth frowned, "Where would a bunch of drunks gather?"

"Drunks? What the – why does that matter right now?"

"Bulwark would be chugging about his 10th pint right about now."

"Bulwark is . . .? Oh, one of the mercenaries? I don't think we have enough time to go searching for him."

"What do you suggest?"

"We go ourselves – see what they're really planning and meetup with Jeralt. We can't assume information will get to the right people in decent time and we've already wasted enough of it."

"Neither you nor I are prepared for a fight."

"I will get dressed. I am going with or without you, but I would prefer it if you came with me."

"And if I refuse to let you leave?"

"You can't stop me."

"I will if I must."

"Arr'ho," a built man with a full brown curly beard yelled at them, "I gotcher message."

Byleth nodded, "Bul. Yes. Will you check on that situation?"

"D'er still gotchun ouse'rez, huh?" He hiccupped, "Aye, aye. I'll check'i'ou. Lemme somererber up, ehhr?"

His breath smelled like a distillery plant.

"Professor," Dimitri urged, "Can we really trust this task to him?"

"He's been worse," he remarked like this was a completely normally happenstance. Dimitri remained unconvinced.

"Donnn you doubt me, argghhahhaa," He bellowed with a hearty laugh, "Alal us drink geter aen counted fer. Tails en er fakes."

"What?" Dimitri could not parse anything he said.

"The last I knew, they left the marketplace. They claimed Jeralt summoned me outside the town."

"Mmposshib-ibable."

"That's what I thought."

"Arr'aye. I go forya. Nyti gelsh?"

"That should be it."

Bulwark raised a thumb and stumbled his way back down the hall where he came from. Dimitri blinked slowly – this could not be any bizarre, ". . . How did you . . .?"

"I speak fluent drunk."

"That . . . doesn't . . . begin to help," he said, still baffled.

"Oh. Well, they can provide that fast aid you were worried about. We have done all we can."

Dimitri exhaled loudly, "No. We have not. If he died because of your indifference, how would you feel? You know what? Don't answer that – I think I already know." Dimitri ran off before Byleth could answer, but he kept on the prince's heel.

Dimitri pushed passed people who all yelled or huffed at him; he was a bit surprised that the professor kept pace, although he still viewed him negatively overall.

As they passed the academy and training hall toward the dorms, Dimitri realized that he lost the professor. Grateful for the chance, he hurried toward the lower terraces and to the stairs to the second floor by the greenhouse.

As he closed in, he saw the professor coming from the dining hall stairs – with Dedue. That sneaky bastard.

"Make sure he doesn't do anything rash," The professor requested Dedue, who nodded and gave Dimitri a stern look, before parting ways.

"Dedue, wait," Dimitri said, cornered by the larger man. He could outrun Dedue, possibly, but it would be futile without his gear.

"I am waiting," He said, "I heard people talking about the hurry you were in. I saw the professor and he informed me on what happened. Although I am still confused, since we had very little time to talk."

"And what did he tell you, exactly?"

"That you were about to fall into an obvious bandit ruse and get yourself killed. It was enough to catch my attention."

"I am going. I have to see for myself how this plays out," Dimitri went up to his floor, with Dedue trailing him.

"If that is your wish, I will not argue."

"Good," Dimitri started putting on his armor, "I guess when he pawned me off to you, he didn't realize you would side with me in the end."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, he has no interest in making sure his father lives and thought he could keep me confined here using you as the prison warden. I can't just let this go, knowing there's danger right outside these walls."

"I think he fully intends to go. He went to get his own gear."

"He said that?"

"Yes."

". . .Alright. If that is the case, I will wait for him. But not for very long."

"This is about his father, then? Is that why you are so upset?"

Dimitri sat down on the chair to change boots, ignoring the question. Dedue nodded, knowing he was right. In waiting for Dimitri to dress, he walked over to the waste bin filled with various bandages and other miscellaneous trash.

He pulled the lining out and felt something rattle behind the basket. Dedue pulled back the bin and found a crumpled-up piece of paper. Curiosity got the better of him and he unfolded the paper before Dimitri had time to protest.

At the same time, Byleth appeared in the doorway, looking at the two students.

"'Ashen Demon'? What is that?" Dedue asked. Frustration lines sprouted from Dimitri's eyes and Byleth felt his face stretch in surprise. Dimitri guiltily met Byleth's gaze and they both froze for a moment.

"It's a fable. Nothing more," Byleth answered, attempting to dismiss it altogether, "May I see that?"

He extended his hand for the paper in Dedue's.

"That doesn't sound like a good one," Dedue said.

"It isn't," Byleth confirmed.

Dedue relinquished it to Byleth without a fight. He straightened the page out and without looking too closely at it, ripped it in half. Then lined the two halves and tore it again.

"Best not idle with ridiculous fantasies."

"I won't give it a second thought," Dedue agreed.

Dimitri sighed in relief. Byleth pocketed the sheet and felt uneasy about the whole situation, beginning to understand why Dimitri was quick to accuse him. Beyond that, his house leader's impulsive tendency to rush off and do whatever he wanted started to exhaust Byleth.

There was a precedence – a long standing order – to how emergencies were handled. Dimitri stomped all over them, leaving Byleth very conflicted on how to resolve it.

"I am against you going," Byleth said after a long silence.

"Yes, you've made that perfectly clear," He answered sardonically.

"Think it through. Once you leave the gates, what will you do next?"

"They said the skirmish is outside of town. I will head there."

Byleth shook his head, "Outside of town can mean either the forest, a good place to set up a trap. Or the field, where you could see everything from a vantage point."

"A vantage point?"

"What is the tallest building in the town? Scout above and get an idea of what you're rushing into."

"Yes, but," Dimitri stood up, "scouting takes too long and I've never been good at it anyway."

"No. You will do this my way or I will keep you here."

"Do you think you can?" Dimitri challenged.

"I will do what I must."

Dedue, who had been analyzing what the professor said, interrupted with, "If they were just outside of town, would the lookout have already spotted them?"

Byleth nodded, "Which is why I believe they've setup in the forest. Their movements would be harder to track."

"They were skulking around in the forest last time, too," Dimitri remembered.

"One more thing," Byleth said, "None of here were given permission to leave these grounds. Doing so may get us all reprimanded. Knowing this, do you still want to go?"

"Without question," Dimitri answered then pushed passed the professor. Byleth and Dedue followed along wordlessly.

The merchants closed shops and the customers vacated due to the guards' evacuation, leaving the market eerily quiet. The same guards that Byleth instructed stood watch with a few others.

"You've returned!" The gatekeeper said, "Those two have not shown back up, but Jeralt's mercenaries set out to find more information. Still have not seen the knights. That is all to report."

"We are going, too," Dimitri said.

"We cannot allow that," The higher-ranking knight said, "We have protocol. I know you must be worried, but we will handle this."

"I thought as much," Byleth crossed his arms.

"I don't care if it's against your protocol! Move aside," Dimitri ordered.

"That's the next king of Faerghus," One of them whispered to the highest-ranking knight, "What should we do?"

"The Archbishop's rules outrank the prince's demands. We will not stand aside."

"Dimitri," Byleth warned, "Don't."

"You said you let Jeralt's men pass? Then why not move for the professor?"

"We have specific orders to not let him – or any of you – leave without the Archbishop's permission."

"That is absurd," Dimitri continued.

"Come with me," Byleth pulled on his arm, "There is no use in arguing."

"I can't believe any of this," His forehead creased.

"As a student of the academy, you adhere to its rules. This was explicit and you agreed to it. The rules state not to let the students leave without permission. This extends to the professors and knights as well. There is order and protocol. Of course, you could risk expulsion and have that feat staining your record."

"You did well to inform us," One of the other knights tried to calm the tense atmosphere, "Because of your efforts, we are able to act once the situation becomes clearer."

"One good deed does not leave way for an imprudent one," The highest-rank said, "Know your place while studying here. Child."

"You bas–"

"It's not worth it," Byleth cut him off.

"But he – ugh. Fine. Let's go . . ."

"A wise decision," He mocked as they retreated.

"Damn him!" Dimitri growled, then turned his anger to the professor, "So, you knew that would happen, did you?"

"I suspected it. I didn't realize they'd be assholes about it, though."

"I doubt he would be so careless once his highness ascends the throne. I'll remember this," Dedue said.

"When that happens, I won't have time for small fry. 'This place is like a prison' – I believe you said something to that affect, correct?"

"I may have."

"I'm beginning to see your perspective."

"I wasn't sure the same rules applied to you, but I assumed that they were."

"Hence your warning about the possibility of reprimand. I can't believe you're okay with this."

"I never said I am . . ."

Dimitri tapped his foot while he thought on what his next move should be. He vented, "I can't claim the throne because I am too young. That is what I am told. To pass the time, I came here – to benefit from the knowledge this place can offer. Yet, I'm as powerless here as I am in Fhirdiad! This is getting old."

Dimitri noticed the look on the professor's face – it was surprisingly not blank. His eyes were narrow with either sympathy or pity, he could not tell which.

"I guess it is truly out of our hands," Dimitri said, "How are you feeling, professor? It is your father, after all."

"I don't believe he's in any real danger," The professor said.

"You're confident in his abilities."

"Actually," the professor shook his head, "The more I think about it – and what you observed – I believe they waited for my father to be away to launch their plan."

"What do you mean?"

"The bandits wanted me to come unassumingly so they could . . . what was it? Parade around with my head? If it's the same bandits, their numbers would already be thin, and my father's presence would pose too great of a risk to them."

"Barbarians. They would flaunt their victory for when Jeralt came back to hurt him, that's what you think?"

"I don't know for certain. Regardless, I don't believe that my father would lose to these bandits if they did cross paths."

"I hope you're right. I sincerely do."

"Professor," One of the knights approached, "The Archbishop wants to see you. Alone."

". . . Understood," He nodded, then said to Dedue and Dimitri, "Stay put. Don't you dare try and leave. Am I clear?"

Dimitri exhaled heavily and said, "Crystal."

"Good," The professor left with the knight to hear the Archbishop's message.

Author's notes:

I began writing from the beginning after I already started a few chapters in Part 2. I have finished this and have a separate story for it, since it won't fall in line here for quite some time. It starts at the beginning of CH18 when / spoilers / Dimitri regains his sense of self and strives to save his kingdom.

Linked below, if anyone is interested in it

s/13416674/1/Hallowed-Grounds


	6. Sunset Knight

6 Sunset Knight

4/25/1180 – Nightfall

"We heard what happened from the knights," Seteth held his head high and crossed his arms as if he were scolding a child.

"Remember, Seteth," Rhea reassured him, "It was our new professor who took initiative on alerting the knights to danger and allowing information to pass to Jeralt's men. Your instincts served you well, child."

"It doesn't excuse him taking it upon himself to try leaving the monastery grounds. He even gathered a couple of students!" He then addressed Byleth, "You knew you and your students are not permitted to leave these grounds without proper authorization. Care to explain?"

Rhea appeared concerned and asked, "Professor, who's idea what it to leave in the first place? Yours? Or the Prince Dimitri's?"

"Mine," He lied without a flicker of hesitation.

"I see," She scowled, "I know you worry about your Father. And he you. You showed wisdom in alerting the knights, but I would ask that you refrain from taking matters into your own hands in the future."

"You need to learn patience and discretion," Seteth reprimanded more intensely, "Show the knights respect and follow the established order."

"Keep your knights from antagonizing my students," Byleth rebuffed, which caught the two by surprise.

"What happened?" Rhea asked.

"A knight provoked my student at the gate – instead of instructing, he demeaned. I will not tolerate that again."

"You will watch your tone," Seteth stepped forward feeling his own emotions spark.

"I see," Rhea remained level, "I will talk to them. We should respect all of our positions here."

Seteth side-eyed Rhea's comment but sighed in realizing there was not much he could do or say.

"That is all we have," Rhea ignored Seteth's silent protesting, "Tomorrow is a faculty meeting, so please be here by 11."

"Understood," Byleth walked away and Seteth watched in disapproval.

"Are you serious, Rhea?" He asked once it was just the two of them again.

"He shows valuable leadership skills and does not panic when a dangerous situation arises. How many people do you think would see through a trap like that?"

"Not the point," Seteth argued, "He took a tone with us that we should not allow. How dare he demand anything from us."

"If what he said is true, then we have a breakdown between knights and students. We cannot have that."

"He should not have gathered at the gate to begin with," Seteth countered.

"Would you walk away from a loved one in peril? Imagine if that were Flayn and I tried to stop you. How then would you react?"

"That is not the same thing."

"But it is, Seteth. Also, I do not believe him. I think it was the prince who rallied him to the gate – not the other way around."

"Even if that is true, that pair is certainly trouble. I see through the prince's innocent façade. We must watch both carefully from now on."

"Hah. For once, I may agree with you. We can discuss this after my next appointment."

Her door knocked just then.

"Right on time," She smiled.

Dusk fell and a darkened dome covered the sky. Out of curiosity, Byleth walked by the marketplace.

The knights who stood watch thinned down to their original numbers and the gate keeper waved at Byleth, "Professor! Jeralt and the other knights returned! No strange bandits came back through."

"Maybe I should have been more careful," Byleth remembered taking an unusually imposing approach when confronting them.

"No, you definitely did good. I'll keep reporting to you when I see you! Maybe you can spot other evildoers before they commit atrocious acts!"

". . . Evildoers?" Byleth scratched his head, "I don't think it's quite that serious."

"Anyone who raises a sword to the church raises it to the Goddess – anyone who tries to hurt one of her flock is the same. Villainy is villainy."

"I . . . see," Byleth did not know how to process that, "Well, I will be glad to hear your reports, then."

"Good! Welcome to Garreg Mach! I just know this year will be a grand one with you around!"

"Uh. Okay, thanks," Byleth waved goodbye. He was stopped by a familiar, deep voice.

"Hey."

This voice always caught his attention. He turned and said, "Father."

"I heard all about it. You did good. Walk with me?"

Byleth nodded and they strolled to the stables, where Jeralt tended to his horse.

"Sounds like that kingdom prince didn't handle it so well, though," Jeralt took off the saddle and baggage from the horses back.

"Yeah. The archbishop is upset."

"Go figure. Let's just hope Rhea doesn't decide to have her faithful watch your every move. That house leader of yours sounds like trouble."

"Not really," Byleth shrugged, "He was concerned, that's all."

"Hmm," Jeralt raised an eyebrow, "Well, at any rate, I did not see any bandits. I wonder if they'll pull another stunt like this again. You should get some rest. You look like you've had a long day."

"Do you need any help? I'm not all that tired."

"That damned curfew will be soon, and I don't want you in any more trouble."

"Goodnight, then," Byleth obeyed.

"Yeah . . . night, kid."

"Oh . . . I wanted to ask you something," Byleth said.

"What's that?" Jeralt gave Byleth his full attention.

"My birthmark. Is it a scar?"

"Huh? Why are you asking about that?"

"Because it burned earlier. It doesn't hurt anymore."

"It burned?" Byleth nodded in response and Jeralt glanced at his son's torso, "But it's better now?"

"It is."

"That's never happened before . . .If it does anything else, I don't care what time it is – you come find me immediately."

"I will."

"Good. I'm holding you to it," Jeralt said.

Byleth blinked at Jeralt a few times before asking, "So . . . is it a scar?"

"You've had that thing since you were born. Unless someone opened you up as a baby . . ." He trailed off.

"Hmm. I suppose that wouldn't make much sense."

"Right then. Anything else?"

"No," Byleth walked away. As Jeralt watched his son leave, he thought, 'What the hell did you do to him, Rhea?'

At the lake, Byleth saw Dimitri standing at the pier while mindlessly watching the fish swim.

"You should get some sleep," Byleth said. Normally he would avoid conversing to anyone when he did not have to, but something in him wanted to correct their relationship.

"Oh," Dimitri broke his hypnotic gaze into the deep pool, "Hello, professor. I was just doing some thinking."

Byleth stayed next to the light post at the base of the pier to give Dimitri space, "If you're still worried, I saw my father already. He never encountered the bandits."

"That's good news," He still seemed disconnected, "How did the meeting with the archbishop go?"

"She just wanted to let me know there was a faculty meeting in the morning," He lied again, "That's all."

"Ah . . ." Dimitri walked up to Byleth but stopped before they became too close. Dimitri tried to find something to fix his sight on that wasn't his professor. There was an awkward silence and a distinct desire to depart.

Byleth finally dismissed himself, "I am going back to my room. You should do the same."

He turned away from the fishing pond, before thinking about the torn-up paper in his pocket. He pulled it out, ready to dispose of it.

Dimitri tensed, expecting Byleth to question him about it. Instead, Byleth held the pieces of paper to the candle on the light post, slowly setting one corner alight. Byleth breathed in a huff of smoke, then he gave the flame the opposite corner, and finally lit the middle.

Dimitri and Byleth both silently watched the slow burn engulf the pages. The corners bent backwards and dropped. The ashes fell but cooled before it sprinkled to the stone ground. Then the middle followed, curling as it incinerated, temporarily melding the torn sheets into one whole again.

A leisurely race of three distinct paths, interweaving and destroying the page, lagged to the same end goal of undoing the written words. They watched still, transfixed by the helpless paper's fate.

A warmth expelled from it, touching both of their faces even from afar. Pieces of ember danced away, blinking out of existence in the same moment of their birth.

As the last of what remained in Byleth's hand disappeared, he dropped the dying ball. The gray matter scattered before ever reaching his feet. No evidence of the words existed now, carried off by the wind.

"Goodnight, Dimitri."

The warmth was gone, even though the candle on the post remained, "Right. Goodnight, professor."

4/26/1180 – Late Afternoon

"You've had that look on your face all day," Dedue said as they left the training grounds.

Dimitri released his pensive eyebrows and asked, "What look?"

"Frustrated," Dedue answered matter-of-factly.

"What's there to be frustrated about?"

But in truth, Dedue was right on the nose. Dimitri felt like he relived the same day over and over again. Wake up. Train. Eat. Train. Eat. Train. Eat. Sleep (or, rather, stare at the ceiling for hours until he gave in).

He felt trapped, and the evening prior proved it. The archbishop owned him, and he could not even dream of leaving without the threat of expulsion. He had no power here and apparently no close allies beyond Dedue.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dedue asked.

"Not really," They walked to the officer's academy by Dimitri's lead. There was nothing new to do in his classroom, but that was true of everything.

"We should gather everyone for a strategy session," Dedue suggested when they reached the empty homeroom.

"I haven't seen the professor today. A faculty meeting or some such. I don't like him, Dedue."

"Still?"

"But I will do what I can to keep the peace. I see now where everyone fits in."

Dedue nodded, "All we have to do is get through this year. Everything else does not matter."

Dimitri nonverbally agreed and pulled out a book from their shared collection.

Jeralt researched medical procedures that involved the chest and areas around the heart. Never a healer nor a scientist, these textbooks made little sense to him. Even so, he could guess the gist of the procedures and practices, cataloging possible matches in a separate journal along the way.

He looked over his shoulder from time to time, making sure Rhea's dogs were nowhere in sight. Then again, any one of the quiet people so innocently reading could be her informant.

'I have got to keep Byleth safe,' he thought. He had yet to find clandestine practices and wondered if maybe Rhea operated with questionable techniques.

'His heart does not beat. It never has. There's a scar over it . . . she didn't open him up, did she?' but he had mulled over this time and time again.

From a truly biological standpoint, Byleth could not exist as he did. The heart pumped the blood and the blood circulated throughout the body. The body could not function without the heart.

So, what happened? Clearly, he grew up just fine without one of the essential organs. But how? And if it burned, was he at risk?

He refused to ask Rhea. She never gave him a straight-forward answer before and feared confirming Byleth as _that _child. Rhea suspected it already, Jeralt already figured that much out; but, if he could pull off deniability, he maybe had a chance to flee with Byleth again.

As long as Rhea had them under her thumb, Byleth would never be safe.

Open chest and open-heart procedures were a risky maneuver – at least, that's what he gathered from multiple sources – and should only be considered when all else failed.

He wondered who he could consult about this. He considered finding a doctor in some remote village or town in the next assigned mission, believing that he could not trust any of the people employed by the church. He then hoped it would not get back to her . . .

To that end, he put the books away. He could not be caught lingering in that section for too long. Besides, even though Jeralt desperately wanted to understand, his mind could not process it. He needed to focus on finding someone trustworthy and knowledgeable.

That would not be an easy task.

As he organized his research materials and placed the texts back in place, Tomas offered him help.

"A very intriguing topic," He chuckled, grabbing one of the books from the pile and flipping through it, "Worried about someone?"

"I've seen plenty of nasty wounds over the years," Jeralt waved it off, "My understanding on medics is limited and I wanted to expand it, since I'm leading a larger group again."

"Oh, yes. Quite," Tomas straightened the shelves and said, "You don't have to worry about this."

"You sure? I don't want to trouble you," Jeralt really wanted the old man to mind his own business.

"Trust me. It'll only be more work for me later if you put them away," Tomas eyed the journal Jeralt scribbled hopelessly in moments prior. He quickly shut the book and pocketed it.

To avoid rousing more suspicion, Jeralt expressed feign gratitude, "Well, in that case, I will leave you to it. Thanks."

"Pleasure is mine. It is certainly is good to see you again. Feel free to come find me if you ever need a hand. Oh, that son of yours." Tomas grinned innocuously, "You are truly a blessed man."

Jeralt nodded and excused himself, then exited the library thinking, 'I can't get caught here again. Tomas' ancient bones have been here as long as Rhea's – longer, if looks had anything to do with it. I especially can't let him get too close to Byleth.'

Byleth left the professor Hanneman's study with a distinct scowl, which was unusual to say the least. Jeralt, who already was paranoid on the church's treatment of his child, asked, "What's with that face?"

"It's nothing," Byleth answered.

"You sure? Doesn't look like 'nothing' to me."

They heard Hanneman talking excitedly to himself, "That pattern! So unusual – but, hmmm. It does seem familiar in a way. Oh! Let's check . . . Erm. No. No that's not it at all . . ."

Jeralt felt his face tug in confusion. Byleth sighed and said, "I'll see you later."

"No, you will talk to me," Jeralt ordered.

"Fine. Not here, though," Byleth gestured to Hanneman's incoherent rambling. Jeralt agreed and led Byleth to a conference room down the hall, where the rest of his mercenary band sat around a rounded table, conversing loudly.

"If it ain't the boy!" one of them cheered, "We ain't seen you for a hot minute."

Bulwark slammed an empty beer glass to the table, "Arghhh," He belched vulgarly, "Well met, Byl – "

"What did I tell you?" Jeralt interrupted.

"Arghh . . . right. You'n'yer secrets, eh? Heh Heh."

Judging by Bulwark's speech pattern, he barely started. Jeralt slammed the door shut, feeling more worked up than usual. Byleth gave him a look – though Jeralt couldn't tell what it meant.

"Boss," Bulwark leaned forward with a serious expression, "Our newbie be back with round 2. Ya should leave 'em'n entrance, eh?"

"If you can't keep your trap shut, then someone will have to open the door," He retorted.

"Yar," Bul raised his hands up exaggeratedly, "Who be newbie's doorman?"

The rambunctious group of men suddenly fell silent as no one wanted to keep watch. Jeralt pulled out a chair and expected Byleth to sit next to him.

"I can get the door," His son said instead.

"You don't even drink. Sit down," Jeralt demanded, "One of the loudmouths can handle it."

"How old be the boy?" Bul asked, "Yer old enough for a try, eh?"

Byleth looked at his father for verification. Jeralt's frown deepened, "Too young for that."

"If yer sure," Bulwark let it go, but Byleth seemed to contemplate it. The father and son finally took a seat.

"Don't get too carried away," Jeralt instructed his men, "I want to do training exercises later."

"Piss off," Bulwark guffawed, "I be plannin' a move on that feisty songstress. I nary seen a woman of her build since the sea witch of '65. Legs. Chest. Booty. Arghhh."

"No one wants to hear about your fantasies. You're not a pirate and she's not a sea witch," Jeralt argued back.

"Not 'more. Useta be king of the seas, eh?"

"Careful. Daydream too much and I might have to end you. Plundering is bad, y'know?" Jeralt reminded him.

"Aye," Bulwark said, "Learned that the hard way, heheh. At the end of your pointed stick, eh?"

"U-Um?" A voice called, stifled by the wooden door, "C-Can someone open this?"

"Go get it," Jeralt addressed Bulwark, "it's your fault it's closed."

"Yer be the one who closed it," He stood up and let in the newest member of their crew. He came back with a tray full of refreshments and the crew became loud again, helping themselves to refills.

"Close the damn door!" Jeralt hollered, "You're letting in a draft."

Once they were shut in and the men were fully distracted by booze, Jeralt asked Byleth, "What happened with that other professor? Hanneman was it?"

Byleth kept his eyes on the men and responded, "He wanted to know if I had a crest."

"And?" Jeralt suspected it from time to time but feared to ever confirm it.

"I do. . . He doesn't recognize it, though."

"I see. Don't let him pressure you into anything you aren't comfortable with," Jeralt warned, knowing the overreaching nature of the church members.

Bulwark slid a glass to Jeralt. Then he slid one to Byleth, "Try it! Harrharr!"

Byleth looked at the glass in front of him and wrinkled his nose at it, "It smells disgusting."

"Yer a kid. Once yer old like me and yer pops, the fragrance of stale ale be a blessing, aye?"

"Ignore him. It's better to not get a taste for it," Jeralt said, then took a big swig.

Byleth pushed his glass away and asked, "Can I go now? Or did you need something else?"

Jeralt sighed, "I won't keep you here if you don't want to be. I just wanted to make sure you're adjusting well . . . Any more chest pains?"

"No."

"Okay. Good. Will you be available for training?"

"Training," Byleth blinked, "That reminds me, I have to do that with the students."

"Right," Jeralt scoffed, "You've got them brats to think about. I won't force you to join in, but make sure you're taking care of yourself. That's all I have for now."

"Okay. Thanks," Byleth did not hesitate to leave the boisterous group. He never did like it when they got rowdy.

"Aw, he be fast on his feet," Bulwark winked at Jeralt, "Aye, don yar worry. He be fine."

"I wanted to ask you something, Bul," Jeralt became serious, "If the church forces him into any of their petty squabbles, will you be willing to join him?"

"Aye."

Jeralt sighed, releasing some of that pent-up energy from stressing all day, "Thanks."

"He be a good lad. I watch his back for yar."

"That songstress is also the infirmary head, right?" Jeralt asked.

"Back off! I saw'r first!"

"Not interested in her, anyway . . . Now, if you do get close to her I want your take on how trustworthy she is. I need a healer to confide in."

"What be yer concern?" Bulwark sat next to Jeralt and took Byleth's untouched ale for himself.

"I just want to know her affiliation and get an idea if she's one of the bootlickers around here."

"Aye."

"I need a healer I can ask questions without raising alarms in the Archbishop."

"Aye. What be yer carp with lofty lass, eh?"

Jeralt took another gulp of the drink and waved him off, "That's personal."

Bulwark whistled and teased, "With the sway of 'er hips, I be hopin' it personal."

"Get your mind out of the gutter for once, will ya?" Jeralt stifled a chuckle, "Lady Rhea and I do not share that kind of a relationship."

"Aye, aye," Bulwark downed the last of his drink and rose from the table, "I be back."

Jeralt watched the rest of his men devour the booze. They acted as though they had no cares in the world – which may have been true. Most of them sought this life once losing everything else: homes, villages, and family. The strength to smile on after that was more admirable than the knights who climbed to the top for glory and pompous gain.

Jeralt was the same as the students – bright eyed and wholly devout – when he first became a knight. Now he had more in common with the mercenaries; but still had Byleth – and nothing in the world would get in his way on keeping that boy safe.

Cross posting to Archives of Our Own account as of this chapter…

/works/21364060/chapters/50888893


	7. Tangled in Lies

_Tangled in Lies_

_4/27/1180 – Sunday_

"Do something will you? I am bored!" A girl screeched from within.

Byleth snapped his neck up, apprehensively assessing his surroundings. He found an assortment of shelves and drawers in his immediate view, causing more confusion.

'Where am I?' He wondered with heavy pants. Something moist and thin stuck to his face. He lifted his arm and needles shot through his wrist. Through the sharp twinge, he peeled it from his dampened skin with only slight resistance from the leafy object.

Once removed, Byleth saw that it was part of the plans he wrote up. His sweat mixed with ink, smearing an indecipherable black sludge all over the page. Pursing his lips with dissatisfaction, he simply left it on the stack, pushed back his seat and stood. His muscles ached from inadvertently sleeping at his desk.

The afternoon sun heated him through the window, but Byleth had no memory of falling asleep nor did he since internalize the passage of time. It was an odd sensation that made him feel desynchronized with the world.

'This is my room,' he thought in a rebound to this notion, looking at the various books, folders, and notes around him. It was surprisingly comforting to know that he had a designated area just for himself.

'I thought I heard a girl's voice . . . but I must have been hearing things.'

He did a few stretches, pulling his back and arm muscles into alignment and popped any joints still tense. His body started to ease and Byleth, deciding to decipher those notes later, left his room.

He found the green-haired advisor, whose name he struggled to recall, scowling under a tree just outsider the dorms, and hoped to not be approached.

'S. . .Eth,' he phonetically tried to force it back into focus. The pieces of letters and sounds were there but jumbled and splintered like a puzzle. Then he remembered it had a similarity to his own name.

Before he had time to compare, the advisor walked up to him and said, "These are the student dorms, as well as where you're staying. Let me be perfectly clear – you are _not _to fraternize with the students. Do not enter their rooms, do not engage them one on one in any way that is inappropriate, and do not try to sleep with any of them. Am I understood?"

". . .Yes?" In truth, Byleth did not understand the advisor's last remark; those beds were too small to allow two people to sleep comfortably – nor did he understand why two people would even try in the first place. Regardless, Byleth meant to stay as far away as possible from the students, while still honoring his job commitments.

"Hmph. I don't like your tone." Somehow the advisor's eyes squinted even further, "But, the decision's already been made. The archbishop hopes that you become close to them. I, on the other hand, have issue with this. Know that I will be watching you. Closely."

Byleth nodded and the advisor inspected him closer, saying, "What is all over your face? You are an example for the church's academic prestige – why do you insist on being an unkept child? I'd expect such behavior from the students. Not you."

Byleth touched where the advisor stared down and answered, "I didn't realize it smeared on me."

"What smeared? What mess did you make?" He pressed.

"My lecture notes. I fell asleep at my desk."

"Ah." The advisor seemed to lighten up a little. With a little more compassion, he went into a heavy explanation at the status of the dormitory and its placement. When he finished, he pointed to Byleth's face, "Maybe make it to your bed tonight."

Byleth wiped his check, though he honestly did not care if the stain was still there. He went on to see what the new day would bring.

Seteth watched the new professor from a distance. Just this morning, he argued with Manuela on preparedness – she was more eager to flirt than to lesson plan and brushed off his concerns, stating that, 'It is only the begging of the semester'. How was it that the nameless, unaccredited child had better sense than his senior?

He feared for the church's image at this rate.

Dedue, still not sure about the prince's earlier mood, kept by his side, despite picking up seeds from the market. They were running short on vegetables, the Duscar youth noticed, and proactively wanted to start a section for home grown produce.

They walked by Seteth on their way back to the dormitory rooms. The advisor stopped Dimitri and said, "Good morning. Have you had a word with your professor yet?"

"Good morning," Dimitri bowed, showing his respects, "No. I have not seen him."

"Hmm. Well, the archbishop found no reason to press on the matter further. I am sure you know to that which I am referring to?"

"Y-Yes. I do. I will . . . make sure it does not happen again," Dimitri lowered his head to hide his anger.

"Even if he is your professor, you should remember your duty to the church comes first. If the professor gives an order that is conflicting to our ways, then you should correct him and adhere to our rules first. Understood?"

Dimitri met Seteth's harsh gaze, "The professor's orders?"

Seteth folded his arms. It was just as the archbishop suspected; the professor lied. Since that was cleared up, Seteth said, "You know. How he summoned you to the gate to leave the monastery. That was his idea, was it not?"

Dedue picked up on this inconsistency first and answered before Dimitri could put his foot in his mouth, "But of course. Consider us reeducated on the matter."

Dimitri gave a confused look to Dedue, but in the end nodded in agreement. Seteth sighed and said, "Thank you. If you'll excuse me."

As Dimitri and Dedue walked in the opposite direction, Dimitri asked, "What did Seteth mean just then?"

"I think they are under the impression that we were following the professor's orders. Not that the professor and I were following yours."

Dimitri shook his head, "That's not what happened."

Then Dimitri remembered the conversation they had that night. The professor said nothing came of it – but maybe he was just covering it up?

"If the professor took the blame for that decision . . ." Dimitri frowned.

Dedue also pondered it, and finished, "Then you would not be punished for it. Interesting."

"Why would he do that?" Dimitri folded his arms, then thought, 'It's not like he cares.'

"It does not matter why," Dedue shrugged, "Just whether or not he did."

Dimitri saw the professor talking to his father near the training grounds, but it appeared they were at the tail end of their conversation. Jeralt left him and the professor walked toward their location.

"I guess I am a bit surprised," Dimitri nodded, "It's strange . . . every time I think the worst of him, he does something like this that makes me wonder."

"Wonder what?"

Dimitri sighed, "I cannot say I approve of his mannerisms. However . . . as far as him leading us . . . I think I can trust him there."

"Yes. I think, for now, we can assume he is an ally."

Dimitri laughed for the first time in a couple of days, "You just like him because he reported to you like you're my keeper."

"He acted in favor of your safety. I cannot find fault in that."

"No, of course you couldn't," Dimitri smiled. The professor stopped by them and Dimitri extended his good mood to include the professor.

They discussed in length about the upcoming mock battle and finally decided to get the class together for a sparring session on the next day.

Dimitri and Dedue went to find everyone and relay the message, while the professor agreed to take Dedue's seeds to the greenhouse. Byleth found himself engaged in other tasks – fishing for Flayn and eating lunch with his some of his students – but it ended up being an otherwise quiet day.

He spent the evening planning lessons and completing his introductory courses, as well as the first spar day. In the solitude of his room, he smiled at the results.

He started to have positive feelings for what was to come.

_4/28/1180 – Monday_

After the sun rose, the same three students from the Blue Lions arrived as normal. Felix, first and foremost, as he already planned on training that morning. Dimitri and Dedue shortly after, also heavily dedicated to their training.

Dedue and Dimitri stretched quietly together while Felix swung a wooden sword at a training dummy with aggravated energy. Even if Dimitri wanted to know what made Felix so affronted, he would not risk that frustration on himself before a proper warmup.

Ingrid and Ashe walked through the door, talking about something. Ashe looked at Dimitri nervously, then asked, "Ah. Prince Dimitri! I have a quick question for you, if I may."

"How can I help, Ashe? Are you ready for a workout?"

"Ah. Well, no. it actually has to do with some books Ingrid checked out from the library."

Ingrid smiled widely and exclaimed, "They looked fascinating! Ashe saw me reading them and also got excited! But, apparently, he already saw those exact same books somewhere else. With you, in fact."

"Hm?" Dimitri shrugged it off, "Oh. I mostly read tactical books, so you'll forgive me if I have no recollection of them."

"Oh?" Ingrid put up her pointer finger and wiggled it, "And how do you know that they weren't?"

"Um. Well," Dimitri stumbled on his words, "Well, that is to say, you and Ashe have a particular fondness for knight tales. You wouldn't have gotten excited over tactical manuals."

"So, you did know exactly what books we were talking about. Your mind filled in the blanks."

"Well that's – obvious," Dimitri recovered. Ashe shook his head, in obvious disagreement. Ingrid nudged at him to speak up.

"The vendor from the other day, your highness."

"So, the library carried them after all! That's good news!" Dimitri kept up a cheery disposition, knowing full well the two of them caught on.

"Ah," Ashe lowered his head. But Ingrid had no intention on letting Dimitri slip out of their grasp.

"So, you're playing it like that, huh?" She folded her arms ontop of the other, gazing blankly at the pink sky. "Come on, your highness! You're a terrible liar! You bought those books, didn't you?"

"I – You didn't have to do that, you know," Ashe murmured.

Ingrid veered away from an accusation, "Well, it was a nice deed. One that should be appreciated, right?"

"I just wish you didn't go through the hassle for me, your highness. I appreciate your kindness," Ashe bowed, then trailed off.

"Well, I hope you enjoy those books. Glad you and Ingrid can share in it."

"B-But your highness!" Ashe blurted out.

"We will enjoy these books. But, admit it. It was you who bought them, then donated them to the library, correct?"

"That's," Dimitri hesitated, then shook his head, "not it."

"Ah!" Ingrid waved at the door, "Professor! Can you come here a moment?"

The professor startled and literately jumped from her bellowing, obviously not ready to be shouted at so early. He came over after recoiling and mumbled, "Um. Sure. Thing. Uhm. Ahem. Yes?"

Dimitri gave the professor a dumbfounded look, but Ingrid took control of the situation, "Can you pull the truth from Dimitri?"

"The . . . truth?" The professor tilted his head. He was clueless.

"Ashe, you explain it. I'm going to do some stretching! But I'll be listening, so make sure you get the truth!"

The professor shared Dimitri's perplexed look – then it dawned on Dimitri. The fact that he produced such a face meant the professor was more than just a stonewall.

"What truth am I 'pulling', exactly?" The poor professor seemed profoundly confused.

"A c-couple of days ago," Ashe started to explain, "Dimitri and I went to the marketplace. I haggled for a few books but decided I couldn't afford it."

"And those same books just happened to be at the library, which I checked out," Ingrid finished.

The professor blinked a few times, then stated, ". . . And?"

"And," Ingrid smiled even brighter, "I believe it was his highness who bought and donated those books."

"Oh . . ." The professor frowned, "I still don't know what I'm supposed to do with this information."

"He's been denying it," Ingrid clarified. Byleth looked at Dimitri. The prince just shook his head in nonverbal opposition.

"They are the same books? You are sure?" The professor asked.

"Positive! They even had the same defects!" Ashe proclaimed.

"I can show them later, professor. Broken spine. Water stained pages. Torn cover. Each book had their own blemish, which makes them unique."

"I . . . see . . ." Byleth put his hand to his chin, thinking about what the students were telling him. 'This trivial incident mattered to . . . to . . . these two students. So, I should take this seriously . . .?'

"I'd hate to interrupt your little book club," Felix snarled, "But I believe you called us all in for training exercises. If you're going to be bothersome fanatics, go somewhere else."

"Felix is right," Dimitri quickly backed him up, "We came here to train. Not discuss stories."

"Felix is wrong," Ingrid countered, "We're still missing some students, so we have time. Right, professor?"

"Uh . . . Yes. We are." Byleth said but wasn't too sure. An idea struck him just then, "I will do roll call."

"But professor, isn't it obvious who is missing?" Ashe asked. Byleth crossed his arms. No . . . it really wasn't.

It was too early for this. He wished he could have pushed training further back in the day – well, that would have been arranged if the Black Eagles hadn't already reserved it. Then the Golden Deer had it in the evening.

'You snooze you lose . . .' Byleth said to himself.

Remembering that the professor had a hard time distinguishing people he just met, Dimitri answered, "Mercedes, Annette, and Sylvain." Dimitri then asked, "Shall I go find them?"

"If you would like. The rest of you grab your practice weapons . . ." The professor sounded less than authoritative. Dimitri dreaded what could happen while he was searching for his last three classmates, but at least he could get away from the book topic.

While Dimitri walked in the silence of the morning dawn, a thought occurred to him. Something that he kept forgetting about. That Solfège thing. This would be the perfect time to go into the professor's room and steal that music sheet!

As he passed the professor's room, Dimitri toggled the doorknob. 'Blast . . .' He thought as it was locked. It would not be so easy, would it? Well, maybe the professor forgot about it? Dimitri pondered it for a moment and then decided the professor likely threw it away already.

"Oh, hello Dimitri," Mercedes greeted with a very sleepy Annette. "Hmm? Why are you standing in front of the professor's room?"

"Ah! Good morning, Mercedes! I was – ah," What was a good excuse? The professor was already at the training grounds, so lying that Dimitri was looking for him would come back to bite him. "Oh! Is this the professor's? I thought it was Dedue's. my mistake."

"I see," She hummed to herself, "I suppose we should get to practice."

"Right! Have either of you seen Sylvain?" Dimitri asked.

Annette yawned and shrugged. Mercedes put a finger to her lips and mused, "Mmm. Not this morning."

"Perhaps we missed him. Well. I will let the two of you go on ahead so I can check his room." Dimitri moved on ahead. It was too early for Sylvain to be flirting, right? There was no possible way he found someone to waste time with.

Dimitri went up the stairs to the nobles' rooms and saw Sylvain crouched in front of a doorway, clearly doing something ill intended. Dimitri whispered, "Sylvain! What are you doing?"

"It's not what it looks like," Sylvain whispered back.

"Oh really?" Dimitri growled in a hushed tone, "It looks like you're peeping."

"I'm not, I swear!" He stood up and raised his arms, then Dimitri noticed the bouquet of flowers at the base of the door.

"Really, Sylvain?" Dimitri tried not to raise his voice and wake the other students, but his agitation began to show.

"No, no, no!" Sylvain waved his arms, "Hear me out – this is funny!"

"I don't have time for this. Let's just get to practice," Dimitri turned away and Sylvain followed jollily along. When they were in the open area in front of the greenhouse, Sylvain explained in a normal voice, "Look. I know how it looks, trust me. But if you noticed, the door did not belong to a girl."

"You're giving men flowers now?" Dimitri questioned.

"Not in that sense, but yes. You see. Felix is going to be mad that his morning routine is interrupted by everyone crowding the training grounds. He's gonna be angry all day long."

"So?" Dimitri failed to see Sylvain's point and kept marching forward.

"So! I had an idea – I made a 'secret admirer' bouquet as the final topper on this foul day of his. It'll be funny! I can already picture his face!" Well, that certainly explained Felix's mood.

"I knew this would be stupid. Sylvain, why?" Dimitri asked, but really, he did not want an answer.

"The flowers are actually chocolates! It's even better, because he hates sweets!"

"Do you have nothing better to focus your attention on!? You do realize you just wasted food, too."

"That's the best part! He'll have to give them away! Either he'll find a nice girl to give it to or face the awkwardness of giving them to a dude." Sylvain winked. "So, knowing Felix, I will have a wingman this afternoon!" Sylvain laughed manically to himself. Dimitri threw his head back, completely astounded by Sylvain's immature prank.

"And now, my dear prince, you are my accomplice! So, don't go telling Felix who left the flower chocolates, or I'll just have to tell everyone about how romantic you think a dagger is."

"Sylvain . . .! Ugh." Dimitri shook his head, "Just how long are you going to hold that over my head?"

"I will always use that to my advantage. Just think, when you're married and settled in, I'm going to tell your wife all about that story. And she and I can laugh and laugh and laugh at your expense. Well. Unless said woman actually falls for something as daft as 'cut your own path'."

"It has a lot more meaning than the trite that you spew! No. No, I refuse to sink to your level. I won't tell Felix that it was you – I just simply ask that I am not a part of your shenanigans."

"You have to at least be there for him finding it! Oh, come on Dimitri! You can't tell me you aren't dying to see his face!" Sylvain chirped on.

"If it gets you to leave me alone, sure." Dimitri agreed simply to avoid Sylvain's endless teasing. But, little did Dimitri know that Sylvain had plans for the two of them.


	8. Candied Roses

Candied Roses

Monday 4/28

Dimitri and Sylvain returned to the training grounds, but on their way back in, Sylvain could not help but be proud of his master plan in roping Felix into his flirtatious strategies. The professor was instructing the students on what their individual and team goals were.

"Professor?" Mercedes raised her hand.

"Yes. Uh. Yes?" He still could not place names.

Mercedes looked all around her and asked, "I was watching you . . . and I took my eyes of Annie. Do you see her?"

"A-Annie?" He took a peek at his sheet and must have matched it accordingly, "Annette?"

"Yes! I don't know where she went?" Mercedes sounded concerned and the Professor also paused from his instructions to scan the students before him, then caught Dimitri's eyes, who still stood by the entrance.

"Did either of you –" He began to ask when a shrill voice broke his concentration.

"Proooofeeeessssooooooor!" A woman's voice called from behind the dummies. The professor's back was turned away and Annette came rushing from her hiding spot, a practice axe held high above her head.

Dimitri saw the professor's eyes narrow with a regressive gaze and his hand reached for a dagger on his belt. As if he realized what he was about to do, the professor's eyes widened and he sidestepped instead; it did not matter, as Annette tripped over her own boot and fell forward with the axe sliding toward Dimitri and Sylvain's feet.

"Woah!" Sylvain managed to say as the event took place. The professor caught Annette by the arm and avoided the projectile axe gliding across the ground. Sylvain and Dimitri also hopped away from the object.

Dimitri rested his eyes on the professor and Annette and thought, '_So it is true then. His face did not change much, but those eyes . . . He stopped himself this time. But what about the next?'_

". . . Are you saying you want training in the axe?" The professor asked nonchalantly as Annette swung from his outstretched arm. When she went to straighten herself and the professor tried to help, he ended up raising her several inches off the ground.

"I – I was trying to catch you off guard. Ah. Haha. Haha." She let go of him and landed on her feet, surprisingly.

"Don't try this approach again. You could get someone hurt like that." The professor remained even, like nothing happened. But something had almost happened . . . Something irreversible.

"Annette!" Mercedes called out like a mother about to scold her child. Annette went back to her sheepishly and Felix rolled his eyes.

"Weapon safety. Were you even paying attention?" He asked crassly.

"Woah." Sylvain repeated, also staring fiercely at the professor's back. So. He saw what Dimitri saw.

'_Had the professor drawn the knife . . . would it be his fault or Annette's?' _Dimitri wondered, not too sure. He would have to approach the professor about this later.

As the training session wrapped up due to the next class needing it, Dimitri prepared to ask his professor about the incident with Annette. Sylvain, however, initiated his plans from earlier and dragged the prince off saying, "Dagger, prince. I will speak."

"You . . .!"

"Hush!" Sylvain pointed at Felix who was the first one gone, "Here is our big chance! The reaction, man!"

"Then you go see it on your own!" Dimitri growled. "I have to speak with the professor, anyway. You saw what happened earlier, right?"

Sylvain met the prince's eyes and nodded, "Well. Yeah. But this is priority 1. You can ask the professor about his murderous side later."

"So, you did see it then! Why are you so quick to write it off?"

"He's a mercenary!" Sylvain exclaimed, "Yeah, I don't really care for the guy, but it does make sense. If any of us would do something so foolish as to attack an _honest to goddess mercenary_ for no reason and unprompted, what would happen?"

Dimitri frowned. The answer was obvious, of course. "He would defend himself."

"He did not draw the knife. He did not want to kill her. That part is also true. He was caught off guard and reacted probably better than most around here would. Talk to Annette if you feel the need to. But," Sylvain pointed to Felix, "Felix and Mercedes already yelled at her plenty."

"You're right." Dimitri gave in quickly, "But that does not mean I can ignore the professor altogether. I need to ask him about it, just for clarity."

"And you can do that," Sylvain led him away and toward the dormitories, "AFTER we catch Felix's reaction to those flowers. Then I will snag him into doing my bidding."

"I honestly doubt he would do anything with you."

"Hmmmm." Sylvain suspiciously did not counter that point. Instead, they walked silently behind Felix, who was a good distance ahead of them.

Once they finally closed the gap and followed him up the steps, Felix opened the door to his room and noticed the flowers second.

"What the hell is this?" He growled indifferently at the present. He slid the flowers out of the way with his foot, then closed the door behind him.

"Well. What did I say?" Dimitri felt smug about the whole thing.

Sylvain, however, still smiled, "We'll sit out here and chat until he comes back out. Felix doesn't spend a lot of time in his room. He's probably just changing clothes."

"And you know his habits so well because . . .?" Dimitri asked. He then retracted the question, stating, "Never mind. I don't think there's any good reason for me to know that."

"Felix is a predictable little pup," Sylvain said, "He's got a solid routine by now. I figured since the professor already altered it huge with his training, we can just completely ruin his day with this."

"I don't see why we should," Dimitri still protested, but it fell on deaf ears. Felix then exited his room and noticed the prince and the idiot.

"What do you two want?" He interrogated.

"We're just chatting," Sylvain said, "What with the mock battle about to happen and all. Oh. Someone left you flowers, eh? Who's the girl, Felix? C'mon, you can tell us!"

"How the hell should I know?" He folded his arms.

"Well, is there a note or something?" Sylvain prompted but Felix rolled his eyes.

"Why would I care about some stupid note from a daft girl?"

'_It's actually a daft boy_.' Dimitri thought as he looked at Sylvain.

Sylvain argued with Felix as Dimitri took a passive stance, "But it's a gift! Surely, you wouldn't just leave it out in the hallway. Wouldn't that hurt some poor girl's feelings?"

"Don't care," Felix picked up the vase and brought it to his open window to toss out, "But if you're so concerned, I'll just take out the trash."

"N-No! No! C'mon, Felix! What if she sees this right now and is forever scarred by your heartless actions!"

'_This is going about as well as I expected.'_

"Then you take them!" Felix shoved the vase into Sylvain's chest, knocking him out of Felix's room just enough for him to shut it, and locked them out.

"He. . . He didn't take the bait," Sylvain pouted.

"What did you expect?" Dimitri asked.

Sylvain bounced back, though, and shouted, "I'll just have to settle for you, then!"

"Oh no! I am not doing anything else with you!"

"Well. I will just leave these for another girl with your name on them, with the words in dark blue 'Cut your own path with me, darling'. Should I put the ceremonial dagger in the center piece, or have it tied in with a bow?"

"You wouldn't dare. . . !"

"Oh. I would. And I won't tell you when. You'll forget about it and BAM! That's when it'll happen."

"Nghh." Dimitri crossed his arms. "You are evil."

"And you are my designated wingman for the afternoon!" Sylvain emptied and split the vase in half and handed a bouquet of candied roses to Dimitri. "Whoever gets rid of all their flowers first wins."

"And what is the prize?" Dimitri mockingly asked.

"A date with half a dozen girls, right?"

"And do these girls actually meaning anything to you beyond a number?"

"I dunno. Do I mean anything to them beyond a crest?" Sylvain's mouth twitched a little bit, but he played it like a joke, "Hahah! Just kidding! Powerful breeding and all that. Well. Let's go get some dates, okay?"

"F-Fine." Dimitri could not find a way out of this, loathe as he was to admit it.

"I see the guards are swarming you lately, kid." Jeralt sighed as they ate lunch, "I knew it. One lousy mistake on your part apparently constitutes endless spying on theirs."

"I see." Byleth noticed two guards hovering around each entrance of the cafeteria, "I take it they mean to watch me?"

"What it looks like," Jeralt took a bite of his sandwich and Byleth thought about the day after next.

"The mock battle is in two days. Is there anything else I can do to prepare for it?"

"You ran formations, right?"

Byleth nodded, "Earlier today."

"Do it again tomorrow. Make sure you're well stocked on salves and such."

Byleth felt the dagger on his lap, the one he almost used on one of his students, then asked, "The weapons have not been restocked, have they?"

"Not yet. I think the bandits that tried to lure you out also raided the weapons cache while they were inbound. Talk about a troublesome bunch."

"That leader means business, apparently. Have you found any clues on him?"

"Not yet." Jeralt raised an eyebrow, "You're awfully chatty today, kid."

"Am I?" Byleth wondered about that himself. He did feel different lately. "Father . . . How do I learn my students' names?"

"Hmm. Well . . . usually things like that start to stick with you once you give them orders."

Byleth did not understand, "So . . . I just have to . . ."

"Work with them some more."

"And I'll just . . . learn . . . it?" Byleth was unsure. Dimitri he could remember, only because he translated it into a jingle. Everyone else did not have a comprising song to go with it, so that left Byleth at a loss.

Jeralt finished his lunch and said, "If you still have trouble in two weeks, I'll see if I can find a way to help you."

Byleth also finished and asked, "And . . . as far as my own name goes . . ."

"Try to hide it for as long as possible." Jeralt instructed.

"Right. Okay." Why did it matter so much? It was just a name, after all . . .

Jeralt and Byleth parted after lunch and the new professor found himself drawn to the pond again. It was a nice day – all of them had been since arriving here – and he wondered if the fish would be particularly drawn to the surface because of it?

Before he had a chance to ask for a pole, he noticed Dimitri with three other students. One male. Two females. Dimitri looked a bit flustered while the other students were excited about . . . something.

Byleth walked up to them out of curiosity. The two girls walk away from them and the other student – red hair, possibly in his class? – followed after them.

"Hiya professor!" He said as he chased the two laughing girls. Dimitri shook his head and refused to play this game any longer.

"Professor." Dimitri greeted sourly.

"Dimitri . . . what is in your hand? Flowers?" Byleth asked.

"It's . . It's not what you think!" Dimitri's expressions became even more perturbed and the skin around his cheeks flared red.

"I . . . don't know why you are getting so upset over flowers?" Byleth said with sincerity. Enough to put Dimitri at ease. The prince took a few moments to calm down while Byleth patiently waited for him.

"Professor," Dimitri said at last, "Can I ask you about something that happened this morning?"

"Yes." Byleth had a suspicion he already knew what Dimitri would bring up. He had prepared to deal with that since it happened, after all.

"Annette attacked you with a practice axe. You . . . almost retaliated. I just wanted to make sure something like that doesn't happen again. I am glad nothing serious happened. It still scares me to think what might have happened, though."

"Yes. I know."

"You . . . do?"

"It's as I told you before, Dimitri. I am well aware of my own shortcomings." Byleth admitted with a guilty face, "On the battlefield, bandits would use cover to ambush."

"And you went to defend yourself out of instinct."

"Yes."

"Can you promise me that you won't hurt anyone during training?"

". . .No." Byleth shook his head, "Not if they go outside my exercises and attempt something like that again."

"If all the students do follow your instructions?"

". . . Yes. I am sure there will be a lesson in ambushes at some time. If I know it is coming, I will not react like that."

"Okay. I believe you." Dimitri slumped his shoulders, which must have been stiffened with stress.

"There is still one thing I don't fully comprehend." Byleth confessed.

"What is that?" Dimitri asked.

". . . Why did Annette try a sneak attack in the first place? As far as I remember, it was unprompted, and the lesson hadn't actually begun regardless."

"Oh. Well . . ." Dimitri nodded, "I think she was being 'funny'. But it was only funny to her?"

"I do not understand."

"No. No, I imagine you couldn't understand something like that." Dimitri nodded then added, "It's also one of those things that are hard to explain."

"Oh. Is that so?" Byleth tilted his head to the side. "Well. Maybe since you do understand it, you can talk to the class for me? I really do not appreciate what she did. Nor do I want to . . . pull a weapon on my students again."

"Did you actually pull the dagger out?" Dimitri could not recall him having actually drawn it.

"I did." Byleth confirmed, "It was fully drawn by the time I caught her by the arm. I just . . . hid it in my sleeve after that point."

"N-No way!" Dimitri missed that, but everything happened so abruptly that Dimitri decided he could not be too surprised. The knife was out by the time the professor caught Annette by the arm . . . that means if he acted based solely on instinct, then Annette . . .

She would be dead right now.

Dimitri could tell the professor meant well and regretted that it nearly happened. The significance of it was not at all lost on him. There ultimately was nothing more to discuss . . .

"I will talk to the class." Dimitri promised.

"Thank you." The professor nodded. His face relaxed a little, but Dimitri still failed to see a smile. The professor was capable of it, Dimitri believed that. He would see it one day. The professor then said, "I don't know if I can switch that part of me off. I will remove the dagger until I know for sure."

"You should not have to go that far. I doubt something like this could happen again." Dimitri contended.

"Dressing without armor is a weakness. I learned that the other day with you," Byleth folded his arms, "But . . . if I have weapons, am I a danger to you? I can fight with only my hands, I suppose."

"I . . . don't know, professor. Do what you think is best."

The professor shook his head, "Neither do I. I'll think about it some more. . . . Is it normal for you to be holding flowers?"

'_Back to this, are we? He may be socially handicapped, but he is sharp in just about everything else.'_

"It uh . . . well. To be honest, they are candy. Chocolate, to be exact."

"They're not flowers then?" The professor looked twice as confused now.

"Right. They're wrapped. See?" He moved five of them into the fold of his arm to unwrap one of them. A piece of the chocolate, molded into a rose shape, presented itself under the colorful red wrapper.

"Oh. I see . . . "The professor lied. He still had way too many questions; luckily, he seemed to just drop the subject altogether. Well, that was until the professor asked something else. "I take it you like chocolate?"

"Not particularly. You?" Dimitri's relationship with food was blasé at best.

"I. . . wouldn't know."

Dimitri raised his eyebrow. This wasn't another 'I've never heard music' claim, was it? "Professor. You've never had chocolate before?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Did Jeralt raise you under a rock?" Dimitri asked, "Oh. I guess that was rude. Please accept my apologies."

"I was raised in a traveling mercenary camp." He answered very matter-of-factly. The nuance of that saying went over the professor's head spectacularly.

"Yes. Quite. Um. So, traditionally speaking, when a man offers someone chocolate roses, it's a romantic gesture. Please do not misconstrue what I am about to do, but . . . did you want to try a piece?" Dimitri thought just then, _'This is a little weird. But. I can get rid of at least one of these flowers if he takes it.'_

"Romantic . . .? Are you courting right now?" The professor accused.

'_How in the eternal flames____did he manage to come to that conclusion? Ugh. Sylvain, why?'_

"It's a long story, professor. I'm merely holding onto these for a friend . . ."

"And you're giving away a friend's property?" The professor asked. '_Goddess, why me?'_

"Well. You see . . . He owed me one, anyway?" Dimitri should have kept his mouth shut.

"The more you say, the less I understand." The professor shook his head, "But if those do not belong to you, I cannot accept it."

"Professor . . ." Well, Dimitri was already this far in. Why not explain the rest? "Sylvain and I split a bouquet because he dragged me into his shenanigans. They first belonged to him, but now they belong to me. I have no interest in . . . in courting. But I want to get rid of these flowers."

"This class leads very complicated lives. Books. Flowers. Chocolate. All things that I would not think twice over."

"Right. I am sorry to have subjected you to this. If you do not feel comfortable accepting, then I will not ask again."

"I just ate, so I am not all that hungry right now." The professor said. Right. Everything was literal with him.

"I see. Uh. Not that I have any stake in this one way or another . . .But chocolate is a dessert piece. So that means it is eaten after a meal."

"Dimitri . . . Do you really want me to take one from you?"

"One. None. All of them. It doesn't matter to me."

"Hmm. Alright. I'll try one . . ."

"Oh? You will?" Dimitri handed over the partially unwrapped rose. The professor did look at it skeptically before he completely unwrapped it. As he raised it to his lips, Dimitri could not help but wonder what the professor would think of it.

He took a bite of a petal, carefully trying not to let the entire flower crumble away. He lowered the chocolate bud, catching the falling fragments with his other hand as he ate the part he bit off.

The professor's mouth curved up every so slightly. It was not a smile, but it was close. "This is actually pretty good."

"Oh? Well . . . do you want the rest of these?"

"If you don't want them, I'll take them." The professor answered and Dimitri agreed in a heartbeat, handing over the remaining five.

"I'm really not all that hungry," The professor said, "Is it alright if I eat them outside of dessert?"

Dimitri laughed at the professor's naïve question. It was truly becoming an endearing quality, "Yes, professor. Eat them when you like."

"Oh. Okay." They walked back to the professor's room so he could place the chocolates on his desk. Once that was taken care of, the professor asked, "So, the mock battle? Any further thoughts?"

Dimitri felt a sudden blossom of confidence blooming from his chest. He and the professor discussed various strategies for hours, though it migrated away from the mock battle and went into historical events. Before Dimitri knew it, it was time to leave his quarters.

On his way back in for the night, Dimitri realized how much he liked spending time with the professor and how pleased Dimitri was when the professor discovered he liked chocolate.

An unpleasant thought interrupted his achievements for the night, though, as he saw Sylvain standing in the hall. Right. He would have to explain how he managed to rid himself of all six roses.

"I notice a lack of flowers in your hands," Sylvain taunted, "So? Who are the lucky ladies who get to take the prince for a spin? Eh?"

"I am tired, Sylvain. I threw them away."

"Oh? Ouch. Well. I have multiple dates throughout next month, just so you know. I guess that means I win?"

"Good for you. Goodnight," Dimitri walked to his own room and took a page out of Felix's book. He slammed the door (carefully as to not break it) and locked it.

"You're no fun!" Sylvain called from the other side, but Dimitri did not care in the slightest. Unsure whether he could fall asleep right away, Dimitri wrote down some of the ideas they imagined and the 'almost smile' the professor made.

One day soon. Dimitri would witness that full smile. And then he would be especially positive that the 'Ashen Demon' was only a myth.


	9. Theatrics

Notes:

Unless I find a compelling reason / way to work in the recent DLC, I am ignoring its existence. What I may do instead is introduce the characters as late transfers (and the one captain) but it does interfere with my other story, which takes place in part 2.

Theatrics

Tuesday 4/29

"To the professor!" Sylvain yelled, sitting without his own meal next to Dimitri as he ate breakfast. He apparently learned about the flowers secondhand from other students. Dimitri was nearly positive that no one saw that interaction, but there were always spies in their midst.

"Relax. It's not that impor –"

"THE PROFESSOR!?"

Dimitri held his ears shut and rolled his eyes, "Why do you care? You ran off after that horrifying description you gave to the two girls. I figured you were done with me."

"You had the ultimate chance to graze! Why, with your 'breeding', I'm sure you could get just about any girl of your choosing! Or multiple at once!"

"My 'breeding'? 'Multiple at once'?" Sylvain certainly had a twisted view of courtship, that much was certain. "At any rate, I have no use for such conquests. Now, if you will excuse me." Dimitri lost all chance of an appetite and left to rid a mostly full bowl.

"Dude, it's your birthright! Pfffft! Well, you're probably in for an interesting day."

"What does that mean?" Dimitri asked, and Sylvain laughed at him.

"You're in for a grand revelation here very soon. Eh, heheheh."

"Uh. Sure. See you later, Sylvain. Hopefully much, much later."

Dimitri heard a few whispers as he passed by. A couple of his fellow female students were huddled in the line, pointing at him, though he could not make out what they said. Confused, he dumped the tray and left before he was caught in something else.

#

"Oh, how risqué!" Dorothea said as she and Manuela chatted in the cathedral. The first choir practice meant to begin that morning, although Dorothea was the first to arrive in preparation. Manuela told her how one of the other Black Eagles girls saw Dimitri hand over chocolate roses to the professor of the Blue Lions.

"They also went into the professor's room for a few hours." Manuela winked, "They really should have known better than to employ a handsome young professor around a group of horny teenagers."

"Oh, I certainly didn't mind! I suppose there goes two of my prospects in one go, though." Dorothea sighed.

"What a shame." Manuela agreed, "Two stallions, galloping on to each other. Bunch of ladies will be heartbroken after that news gets out."

"Isn't there a rule against student and staff relations?" Dorothea asked.

Manuela shrugged. "Yes, but no one but Seteth actually cares. You should have seen the catches I brought back to my room last year. Oh boy, that was a great year! Some of them still write to me, even."

"Look at you, Miss Thing!" Dorothea chuckled.

"What about you, my dear? Looking to rake in some stallions for a good mounting?"

"Ah. I am looking for a bit more, unfortunately. Doesn't seem like I have much luck yet, though. Lots of handsome and beautiful people, but they are all so very serious! The ones who seem interested are the ones I'd doubt are looking for a sure thing."

"Hah!" Manuela sneered, "Marriage might be the most overrated thing ever created! You are talented and beautiful. You will have so many offers you won't know what to do with them all! If you do pick someone, make sure they are worthy of you."

"I – that's very kind of you to say." Dorothea blushed. "Well, I do believe future queen of Faerghus is no longer an option, haha!"

"It appears there will be no future queen," Manuela mused, "Hm. I wonder if that's . . . maybe they'll find a surrogate. You know, these royal types always have at least three concubines. Sometimes three whole castles' worth."

"A mistress is something I do not want to be, either." Dorothea said plainly.

Manuela shook her head, "Agreed, aim high for yourself. You are far more valuable than that. Ah! Look! More of our lovely vocalists have arrived!"

#

Both faculty and students were welcomed to join in the choir. Manuela and Dorothea would have fun arranging the groups out later for shows, but for now they practiced in unison.

Lorenz claimed to 'have the most beautiful tenor voice in all the Alliance', but he coughed on his own saliva more than once during warmups. Fortunately, Ferdinand truly did have an experienced tenor voice and offered some tea to help clear Lorenz's throat.

Annette and Mercedes were perfectly aligned, and with Dorothea, those three became the three leads that everyone else followed naturally as the morning went on.

Dorothea was a gifted soprano with Mercedes rivaling her top notes. Annette was more mezzo but harmonized well with her higher pitched friends. Hilda hummed along with them, but mostly she just danced. Manuela allowed this, praising her for her coordination.

Edelgard, appearing to 'boost morale', had a naturally deeper voice, which honestly outranked most of the men who showed up. She became incessantly outraged when their voices went discordant and scolded them fiercely. So, in the end, she truly did nothing for morale overall.

Claude also joined for the fun of it and to represent his class. The only class leader who did not show up was Dimitri. Claude and Lorenz bickered, but Claude's voice was one of the naturally deeper voices once he engaged it and sounded divine. Lorenz would not have that and rivaled him.

Claude joined in on Edelgard's lecturing once he grew bored with teasing Lorenz, but more for jesting than actual ridicule, directed mostly at Caspar. His voice was raspy and loud, causing a lot of clash to the overall dynamics of the group and upset the royal emperor-to-be the most. The poor brawler would have to deal with Edelgard even after practice, being one of her own.

The truest, deepest voice, however, belonged to Raphael, who also emulated along loudly. Despite that, his voice actually held a tune nicely. His chemistry with Ignatz, a baritone, resembled Mercedes and Annette. In fact, pairing the four of them together made an excellent four-person team Manuela discovered after experimentation.

Lysithea enjoyed herself, despite being one of the ones Edelgard targeted for the opposite reason of Raphael and Caspar; being too quiet. Lysithea flacked her back on more than a few times, riling her enough to sing vociferously. The two white haired women eventually ended their tension by doing their own harmonizing routines off to the side once Edelgard heard her voice in full. That proved much more reliable than constant beratement.

Seteth, who sighed at the whole thing, simply stated that this was for the Goddess and that they all needed to be respectful – Flayn mocked her brother behind his back, then gleefully sang along. Alois, who always had a passion for the arts, carried a tone-deaf tune and sang a pitch too low. Manuela brought him to the side and helped him to find middle C and work from there. Dorothea led the charge during that period.

Once the faculty had to resume their duties, the choir practice wrapped up. Manuela smiled and said, "Thank you all for coming! I hope this will help bring the classes together. Happy competition, my dears!"

"It's a shame not more of our class came," Mercedes sighed.

Annette nodded, "Yeah . . . Ooooh! You think the professor would join?"

"Hmm."

"Oh?" Dorothea wondered, then winked as she said, "I'm sure he's got a voice. Maybe we can teach him to serenade. I think there might be someone he –"

"Serenading?" Ferdinand asked, "Ah. That is a great idea. Dorothea, would you listen to my – "

"Pass." She crossed her arms. "This conversation does not include you."

Mercedes frowned. She already had a false start with Ferdinand, too, and realized Dorothea must have as well. Mercedes chuckled, recovering her smile and said, "Oh. Just girl talk. You know?"

"A-Ah. Well. I see. I look forward to our next practice, ladies!" Ferdinand bowed out.

"That was strange," Annette said.

"He is strange." Dorothea responded, then said, "Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted, I was about to say that I think your house leader and professor are a thing."

"What? Really?" Annette gasped, "W-Wow, that was quick! I mean, I figured people would start pairing off eventually but that was really, really fast!"

"It would not do us well to jump to conclusions," Mercedes chuckled. Being the most levelheaded, if not a tad airheaded, Mercedes said, "And if they are, good for them. If not, that would really make them feel uncomfortable."

"Oh. You're right." Annette nodded.

"Well," Dorothea played with her hair, "There are students already talking about it like it's a fact. We'll have to see how this plays out."

#

Byleth managed to wake up in his bed, though after the breakfast hours were over and lunch began. Ready for a meal, he found a table with the silver-gray haired student in his class. At least, Byleth hoped that was the student in his class.

He sat down opposite side, causing him to startle. Maybe this was not a good idea, but the student straightened his back and greeted, "Professor! Good afternoon!"

"Good afternoon." Byleth parroted.

"Do – Do you need something, sir?" He seemed fidgety again.

"No. I just . . . were we discussing something before? At training?" Byleth seemed to remember a conversation like that, though the details were fuzzy.

The student beamed, "Oh! Yes! Do you happen to find out if Prince Dimitri did buy those books?"

"Oh." That's right. "No. I did not ask him about that."

"Ah. It's okay. I guess I should just drop it. I think at this point I just want to know how much he spent on those books."

"I see." Byleth was unsure, but came across confident.

The student nodded, "I haggled down the price, but I wonder if Prince Dimitri was scammed. The vendor seemed pretty scummy, honestly. Not that it would probably matter, since Prince Dimitri is, well, he does not have to worry about money. It might be too late to know."

Byleth nodded. Haggling. That was something he knew a little about. "How much would the discounted price be?"

"68 Gold."

"And you don't know how much Dimi – Prince Dimitri spent?" Now Byleth wasn't sure if he should be addressing him like that or not. Dimitri had not minded so far, being spoken to without any honorifics.

"I couldn't even get him to admit that he bought them in the first place." The student shook his head. At least Byleth understood the situation from a pragmatist's point of view, though the semantics still eluded him.

"Is there a reason why this is upsetting you?" Byleth asked straightforward.

"W-Well. As a Prince and the heir to the throne, it would be against my place to have his highness buy my things for me. It isn't right."

"Because of rank?"

"Yes. We serve him. Not the other way around."

The nuance still confused Byleth to no end, but he mentally noted this. "I will ask him later."

"Oh? Thank you, professor!" The apprehension from this student completely erased. "There is one other thing that bothers me. Prince Dimitri is royalty. If that vendor did take advantage of his highness, that probably should be reported."

Byleth nodded, "I agree." then continued his meal. This student entirely warmed up after that, happily showing him some of the books he carried around. His name, 'Ashe', was scrawled in the one book that he owned. Ashe. Ashe. Byleth would have to start remembering these names. It would not do well to call these students by anything else.

Ashe. Silver hair. Likes books about knights. Byleth could retain that information. After they parted ways, Byleth made a note in his journal in case he forgot with a portable quill and inkpad.

Students names, a brief description, and things that they liked and disliked. One way to keep things organized was to write them down and store them in an easily accessed place – his own journal. He also made a note about how what was rude to address royalty as and what he should do to fix it: address them by rank and do not let them gift or buy items.

Wait. By accepting those candied flowers, did that break rule 2? Byleth's head started to hurt. These rules were slightly more complicated at second glance.

#

"Boar!" Felix pounded on his door, "Open up, I know you're in there!"

Dimitri opened the door and asked, perturbed by the disturbance, "What do you need so urgently that you're trying to put a dent in my door?"

"Listen. I don't care what you're into, but don't go dragging me into it."

"What are you talking about?" Dimitri scratched his head.

"Oh, I heard this nasty little thing from some weakling that you and I purposefully meet up at the training grounds to 'get in some practice'. Apparently, that meant something else after I made the little pipsqueak talk."

Dimitri gave him the most confused look that Felix had ever seen on the prince. "What else could that possibly mean?"

"That's what I thought, at first. But then the little shit kept goading me on. He really shouldn't have done that when I had a practice sword in my hand. I blistered that moron's hands so bad I think I made him go cry to mommy."

"Is there a reason you are telling me all of this?" Dimitri leaned into his doorframe. Whoever this person was obviously pissed off Felix's wholly if he was going this far into explaining just how he enjoyed injuring him.

"After I busted his kneecaps, he squealed. It meant some sexual encounter that Sylvain likes to talk about. Look. I don't really care who you fuck in your free time, but it isn't me. It will never be me. So, stop showing up to spar with me until this boils over. Got it?"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Where did an idea like THAT come from?"

"Beats me. But I'm not stopping my morning practice. He said something about you and the professor as well, so I bet it has something to do with something you did. Not me. You deal with it."

So, that's what Sylvain meant. True, Dimitri started to spend time in here because he had the distinct feeling people were talking about him. It had to do with those stupid chocolate flowers after all.

"Okay, fine. I won't spar with you until people stop making up these ridiculous stories." Dimitri exhaled.

"Good." Felix turned away haughtily and marched off to who knows where. Dimitri would have to find a new sparring partner for a while – probably best to avoid the professor as well, if this started because of that.

Why couldn't people just mind their own business?

Notes:

Byleth is now really confused. But what else is new?


	10. Your Highness

Summary:

The final part of the month 4. Byleth acts strangely around Dimitri and it takes him a few guesses before he pinpoints why.

Notes:

Will be focusing on the bandits segment next. I am sorry for the lack of updating. Engaging the source material for progress pointing has not been easy. A lot of OT at work this month so I couldn't just whip out my switch to progress the story.

Your Highness

Tuesday 4/29

"Your Highness," The professor approached Dimitri, who he had been searching for since Dimitri's confrontation with Felix. They finally met near the marketplace by complete and random accident.

"Um. Professor?" Dimitri looked him over and wondered if something went wrong. Perhaps formality was a distancing tactic since he, too, was being chastised for the wrong move of receiving a romantic gift?

"How much did you spend on those books you donated on . . . on Ashe's behalf? Uh. Your Highness?" The professor flipped open his book and deliberated on something.

"How much, you ask?" Dimitri felt a cold bead run down his neck. He had been found out, had he? The professor was sharp, and no doubt did his research in looking up the merchant and the date he purchased it. There was little reason to lie to the professor, since he knew it all. Lying would only worsen Dimitri's position, he decided, and responded accordingly.

"Professor. I cannot remember the exact amount I spent. I think it was 80 gold?"

"Your Highness. Ashe confirmed with me that the price you should have spent was closer to 70 gold. You were overcharged . . . Your Highness."

"Professor, why are you addressing me like that? Did you forget my name again?" Dimitri had to wonder.

"Uh, of course not, Prince Dimitri." The professor held his pen in his hand and hovered of his book.

"Why are you acting so strangely, professor? Is it because of those chocolate flowers?" Dimitri decided to ask pointblank.

"Oh. Yes. I suppose – Your Highness – that I should not have accepted those from you. Would you like for me to return them?" The professor was so stiff right now and it was not his usual demeanor of rigid, either. He honestly looked uncomfortable and now Dimitri just wished he had disposed of the chocolate. He managed to put them both in the spotlight with this maneuver.

"Professor, I would like to request a few things. If that is acceptable?"

"Yes. Your Highness. Of course."

"One, please stop calling me that. Every time you call me 'Your Highness', I feel a piece of my mind splinter off."

"Oh. Very good, Prince Dimitri."

"Two. Just plain old Dimitri is fine. I rather like being addressed casually."

"That invalidates one of my rules." The professor tapped his ink quill on the page.

"Your rules – what rules?"

"Rules one and two. Refer to royalty by their title and do not let them give gifts. I was unaware of these rules beforehand. Your High – uh. Prince Dimitri."

Dimitri rubbed his eyes and requested, "My third request: Please disregard those rules. I do not care for them."

"Oh. So. Ashe was mistaken by being upset by your gift-giving?" The professor asked.

"I give gifts because I like to. I like doing things for people. Most will not let me – or will fight me on appropriateness – if I try. It is more of a hassle in the long run for myself and them, but they constantly feel the need to remind me of my lineage. It does become stale and ends up wasting more time and effort in the process. Oh. My apologies, professor. I did not mean to rant just then."

"Oh. That is fine. I don't mind." The professor flipped his notes and stopped on a different page.

"I do not want you to return those chocolate flowers. Especially because I remember you liking them." Dimitri said.

"I ate most of those candies already."

"Did you? Be mindful of the inbound stomach aching if you eat too much dessert too quickly. So, your calling me by those designations had nothing to do with those awkward rumors about us?" Dimitri asked.

"Rumors?" The professor closed his book and secured the quill.

". . . I do not know why I expected you to take notice. Well, professor, did you have anything else to ask me?"

"That merchant overcharged you. We should report it."

"I think we should just let the whole situation go. I just wanted to do a nice thing for someone who wanted to read books but did not have the funds for it. My fourth and final request is that we leave the book situation in the past."

"What should I tell Ashe, then?" The professor asked.

"I am not sure – he seems so invested in – wait. You have been calling him 'Ashe' this entire time, and I have been too preoccupied to realize it. You remembered someone else's name!" Dimitri meant it as praise but botched the wording. He had been self-absorbed with those rumors and the professor's odd behavior to notice the improvement.

"I am trying. Do you want to gather our combatants for tomorrow and do one more drill, Dimitri?"

Ah, good! The professor listened to his appeal and actually took heed of it. "Sure. I will go look for them. Ah. Do you mind talking to Felix – he is in the dormitories and I can collect the others faster this way. Meet at the training grounds?"

"Okay."

"Great. Thank you, professor."

The professor walked toward the student housing and Dimitri massaged his neck and collarbone. The professor was kind of . . . cute in a way. He was not sure what to make of those feelings, though, so he ignored it for now and searched for the others.

#

Manuela resonated with what Dorothea desired, more than she cared to admit, and sighed as she realized she probably would not be a married woman. Ever. That was a freeing thought in her twenties, but now she worried that her life would remain stagnant.

The cute soldier she brought back took one look at the mess in her room and suddenly 'felt ill and needed a doctor'.

"I AM the doctor!" Manuela argued, but the soldier retreated before she could contend it. All in all, she was having a rough evening. She removed her bra and underwear in anticipation for a booty-call, but it looked like that was not going to happen.

There was a knock on the door – she groaned as she slowly stepped over the mounds of clothes and books and papers on the floor. When she opened it, a large and burly bearded man asked, "This be the infirmary head, aye?"

"Whew. Hello, sailor." Manuela swooned and said, "How can I assist you?"

"Pirate, not sailor, eh? Oh hoho! The head of health and safety bakes a biohazard herself, aye?"

"It's not _that _bad." She argued with a pout.

"Aye. Lass. Can I step into yer chamber? I have some – argh – confessions to make. Problems only a healer can solve, aye?"

"I suppose I can make some time for you, captain. What seems to be the issue?"

"Aye! Captain! I like the sound of that."

#

"If that sea witch be a devout follower if the goddess, I be cuttin' my left foot off for a peg!" Bulwark said to Jeralt. "I be asking her about the kid's heart condition in a bit."

"But you didn't learn anything yet?" Jeralt asked.

"I learned she be good with those legs. Oh damn, them legs."

". . .Glad you found company." Jeralt drank his special brew, ignoring the tangent Bulwark went off on, describing the many unholy acts the pair shared. He mentally focused on planning who would be the best people to consult that would not report back to Rhea.


	11. Introduction's Conclusion

Summary:

The Mock Battle comes and goes - and Byleth learns of his new mission.

Introduction's Conclusion

4/30

The mock battle came, and Dimitri was in awed by the professor once more. His commands were strategic and outmatched the other classes. Their class (comprised of Dimitri, the professor, Ingrid, Dedue, and Felix) was assigned to and approached from the south border. Claude took position in the western forest, and Edelgard in the northeast.

The professor had the class take cover in the forest as Edelgard and Claude mutually decided to attack the Blue Lions first, while engaging in some sort of non-aggression pact with one another as they advanced. This lasted until the Blue Lions led a counter that worked so effectively, that Manuela and Hanneman moved up at the same time. They bickered at one another and engaged in their own battle, throwing different spells and sparking the northern battlefield.

Claude and Hilda, Edelgard by herself, and Dimitri with the professor engaged a three teamed battle royale, complemented by the students still left standing. Hilda attacked Dimitri while Claude snipped at him. The professor fended off Edelgard, so Dimitri could bypass the barricade and engage with the Golden Deer's tricks. The pair of bickering professors split off and healed themselves. The remaining students engaged in their own warfare while the professors advanced on either side.

The professor of the Blue Lions struggled with Edelgard. Her form, even utilizing a battle axe, was solid. She could not land a blow on the professor, but she kept him from doing the same to her. They were evenly matched in speed and grace, it seemed. Although if Edelgard landed the first blow, the professor would lose his slight advantage.

Claude yelled, "Dimitri, Edelgard's hurt!"

"Then that means my professor is doing well. Worry about yourself." Dimitri said as he slapped Hilda's weapon from her hands. He rushed for Claude during that distraction. Claude shot rapidly, not focusing on aiming too much, and once Dimitri reached Claude and gave the strategist no chance to counter, he forced Claude to retreat in the forest. Hilda 'suffered a blow' and went with him to heal and restrategize.

Dimitri took over against Edelgard so the professor could protect the other students from the combat experienced scholar and songstress. "Working together with Claude, Edelgard?" Dimitri chided, "Honestly, I did not expect you to utilize such a strategy."

"If one knows to bow to my prowess, then why should I refuse an alliance, albeit temporarily? Besides, after we disposed of your group, we would engage in our own battle. But enough of that. While it is just you and me, we can finally settle the question of who is stronger."

"Very well. I will hold nothing back."

Edelgard raised her axe, "I would expect no less!"

The issues the professor had with landing a blow did not affect Dimitri the same way. He had length on his side, and while Edelgard had her speed, Dimitri still caught her on Edelgard's attempt to bounce out of the way. Dimitri hesitated after hearing her grunt and she followed up when he was in a daze. He felt that sharp axe grind and drop through his shoulder to his torso and stumbled back. Practice weapons or not, that stung – it would have been near lethal in a real battle.

Dimitri snapped out of it and, with blood pumping and drowning out the rest of the world, he engaged her again. Something about his concern and attraction to Edelgard felt artificial, even to himself – he realized. He loved the girl she used to be, not who she became . . .

Who Edelgard was now seemed unfamiliar. A dignified woman, sure, but distant. Cold. _Something _molded her this way, though Dimitri was unsure of the cause. She refused to let up on her own attacks, a fatale of fast and deliberate blows that forced Dimitri to block until she needed a breath.

As she instigated something feral in Dimitri, his own strikes and movements changed. He was more aggressive in his lunges, though less accurate in them, but his footwork improved. Unable to match his pace, Edelgard was knocked down and the match decided.

"To be defeated is . . . is unacceptable!" She stood up and brushed the dirt off, "It will not end this way a second time."

After Edelgard forfeited the match, Claude returned with a smirk. "So you DO have a thing for Lady Edelgard, huh?"

"Claude. This is no time for your foolishness. Your defenses are wide open."

"That one isn't working on you anymore, huh? Will have to come up with something new. Like. Your thing for Teach?"

"Save it."

"It's fine! Men can be into men, it's totally legit where I'm from. Acceptance is –" Dimitri came at Claude like a tempest, the wave of the battle really stroking his competitive nature. Claude was caught unexpected in the tide and dove into the trees to shake the prince off his trail.

"Dimitri!" The professor called out, "Come back. Regroup."

Dimitri halted his pursuit, and realized Claude easily could have led him into a trap. He returned to the opening of the forest and said, "Claude and Hilda remain."

"We expected this. Remember?" The professor said.

". . . Yes. I do not know what I was thinking. I apologize, professor . . ."

"Tch." Felix spit at Dimitri's feet, "You're a boar. That's what you do."

"Do not insult his highness." Dedue immediately said.

"Ah. Who's a good boy?" Felix jeered.

Ingrid sighed, "We need to hurry this along and claim our victory!"

". . . Agreed." The professor ordered them to set up a perimeter around the forest access points. He shot blindly into the forest once and listened for a reaction. They continued to each move forward, cautiously, in hopes to pincer Hilda and Claude. They may still have their numbers, but Hilda and Claude were barely injured. They were waiting for the others to become exhausted, no doubt.

Something larger than an arrow whooshed toward Ingrid and struck her before the professor could say anything. She groaned on its impact, but one good thing came from the surprise attack – the professor perceived Hilda's location and he shot successively from that location, forcing Hilda to retreat and further give up her position.

Felix ran after her, being the quickest of the group. Byleth watched for Claude's retaliation while Felix overpowered Hilda. They all closed in on that location, ready to take down the marksman.

"Guess I have no choice!" Claude shot at and hit the professor. "Ooh, nice! I got you, Teach!" The professor returned the favor and missed, but Dimitri was there to pick up the counter with Dedue. Ingrid assisted Felix, seeking her own vengeance for the axe throw. Although the Blue LIons students were exhausted and injured, they outplayed Hilda and Claude, who were forced to forfeit.

The Blue Lions were declared victorious, despite the other houses' tactics, and they all returned to their starting positions to return home.

#

Dimitri studied the professor during their celebration. He seemed stone-faced again – perhaps exhausted from the day's activities? Felix went over how horribly Dimitri acted (which, to be fair, was only one slipup), but the professor highlighted their strengths and how to improve from there.

Yet, after this praise, the professor mentally withdrew.

The group carried on with their high energy, but the professor lacked that same energy – which was expected. But he hardly tried to partake in the joyous aftermath. Once it was over, the professor was the first to leave the room and Dimitri just accepted that was who the professor was. Reliable, reserved, amazing, and isolated. Even if he tried to, the professor could not override his seclusion tendencies. It was a shame, and Dimitri forever craved more – but he did not have the right to demand it.

#

5/1

Dimitri took pride in knowing that the Archbishop entrusted a bandit mission to the Blue Lions, but the professor seemed reluctant to go along with it.

"How many of you have battled before?" The professor asked.

"I would say about half of us?" Dimitri guessed after their dismissal from Seteth, "Like I said a moment ago, I have complete faith in your abilities. I hope you extend that to us."

"I will . . . take that into consideration. Excuse me." The professor left Dimitri to revise his notes, suddenly realizing how real this was becoming for his students.

Dimitri sighed as the professor left without a proper farewell. That progress they fought for seemed to diminish as the professor donned a serious expression since their mock battle. He was not happy they won, he did not enjoy their celebration, and now he seemed even more distant than when they first met.

Dimitri took a walk and reflected on his own actions during the mock battle. He almost let the other two house leaders goad him into that other persona of his. The one he tried to keep buried and refused to admit existed.

That persona should only be used to crucify those responsible for his father's death and the ruin of Duscar. He should not unleash it on unrelated parties – Edelgard and Claude – regardless of their rivalries. In a matter of a few years, the three of them would all be raised to the heads of their respective nations, so they should keep the peace for that promising future.

If Dimitri had a promising future to claim, that would be determined shortly.

Still, it was troubling that his 'boar side' emerged like that, even if the professor brought him back down from it. Ever since meeting the professor, it had appeared more and more – the careful smile on his face turned fast into anger every time the professor showed negligence, but similarly pacified by the professor's attempts at learning thoughtfulness. It was not fair for Dimitri to unload on the professor like that, so why was he? His feelings toward the professor confused Dimitri profoundly, and he found himself at a loss every day.

He had to grow up and face it. The next few years were going to be cold and unforgiving. He had to accept that he should face them alone in order to preserve what little of that mental fortitude Dimitri had left. If Dimitri could keep the professor as a permanent ally – goddess, please let it happen – then his future might indeed have a happy ending. If not, then Dimitri could only use his and Dedue's strength to shape their retribution, and see where the pieces fall then.

#

Byleth's thoughts returned to the battlefield after speaking with his father. It was difficult to reign in his gut instinct to kill anyone who raised a weapon at him. That restriction left him exhausted and in need of a nap. Come Monday, the start of his serious schooling would begin, and he would have to ensure that his students were ready. Kill or be killed, there was no other option on the true battlefield. He had not seen this assignment coming – but it troubled him down to his core. Something in him shook – something foreign. Another new emotion? What could it mean?

Thinking about all those small children in his class made Byleth clench his hands. Ashe, Mercedes, and Annette were especially ill suited for close combat. Could they even manage in a real fight? His throat went dry thinking about it . . . He needed to keep them all safe, no matter what.

The students around him were still laughing and moving on as if nothing had changed – but something fundamentally different settled inside him and he continued to see the world, and his placement in it, with new perspective. He wondered who could assist him in learning about these new concepts and feelings.

. . . Dimitri had been a great help with this, so far. In fact, Byleth could think of no other person. Not even his father. Ah, there was something as opposed to someone that might help. He learned a while ago that music helped process those emotions. He went toward the cathedral to investigate and compare that angle.

#

The cathedral held only a few people in its sacred chamber and Byleth asked the nun for help.

"How do I learn to music?" He asked.

"Well, I can help you with that, sir! What do you want to learn?"

"Um. Music?"

"Okay. What kind? Singing or instrumental? There's piano, violin, flutes, percussion – all sorts of different things to learn!"

"Uh." Byleth folded his arms, "I don't know where to start."

"I will help!" Manuela came from a side door, "I couldn't help but overhear your problem, professor! Let's see here. Your hands are long. I dare say, you'd be great on the piano. Let me hear your voice, darling. Try after me! Laaaaa!"

". . .Ahhh?"

No, no, no! From your diaphragm!" She pushed against her abdomen. "Laaaaaaaa! Like that! You try."

"L. . .I can't."

"You haven't even tried!" Manuela placed her hands haughtily on her hips.

". . . La."

"Professor! Are you trying to enrage me?"

"You said something about a 'piano'? what is that?" The professor changed the subject. He had no interest in singing.

"You don't know what a piano is!? Oh, you poor lost soul! Here, let me give you a hand with that."

She took the professor to one of the side rooms, where they kept their instruments, and sat him at a large instrument.

"Puts your hands on it like so. Your thumbs are sharing middle C. Press it."

Byleth pressed it and Manuela hummed it, "That is what middle C sounds like." Byleth also hummed it, matching its pitch perfectly and impressing Manuela. "See? You aren't half bad at this yourself. I'll fetch you a training book and we can get your practiced. Sound good?"

"Yes. Thank you."

She returned and said, "A simple verse. The notes on this page correlate with a nursery rhyme. Here are the first four measures:

'Goddess's light

From the tall sky

Shines e're so bright

Borne from up high'."

Manuela worked with him and sang the verse over and over again. Byleth could 'hear' the notes, even when she took a pause, and knew when his fingers messed up. He would start over without her telling him he was wrong.

"You're not a bad pupil, professor. Tell you what – I'll help you with this if you help me with some of my problems."

"What problems?" Byleth asked, taking a small break.

"I finally had a good dicking a few nights ago, but I'm so behind that It's impossible for me to stay entertained."

"I . . . do not know what those words mean."

Manuela laughed, "Oooh, you really are green aren't you? just sit there and listen to my woes, okay? Most people tell me to shut it after a while and I just need to vent."

"If that is all you need, then I don't see why not." Byleth agreed.

"You are such a nice man. It's hard to see that with that constant serious expression, though."

Byleth touched his face and nodded. "I've been told."

"By that cute little prince that has fawned over you since your arrival?"

"What does 'fawned' mean?"

"Oh sweet goddess, you have sent me a virgin to educate! Listen to me, darling. You need to make your position to Dimitri very clear. Either you enjoy his presence, or you find it annoying that he seems to cling to you. Well? Which is it?"

"You did not answer my question first." Byleth pointed out.

"I sort of did. Dimitri keeps coming to you for attention. Lately, it seems like he's after your affections, too."

"That is what 'fawned' means?" Byleth asked.

"Yes."

Byleth practiced the melody once, ignoring his mistakes until he hit the last note. "I do not mind. Oh. You are good with 'emotions' then?"

"I – uhh – well, that's a matter of opinion, really. Some think I'm just really easy to anger and lack responsibility – but I'd prefer to say that I prioritize better than most here!" Manuela boasted. "So, yes, I can help you with your emotional troubles!"

"What I am feeling is bad compared to what it's been lately." Byleth admitted.

"Why is that? What prompted this feeling?" She asked.

"Learning that my students will be fighting bandits."

She sat down next to him and started playing a melody from memory, "And what about this is upsetting you? You are a mercenary, correct? You should have nothing to fear."

"I have fought before. My concern is not for me."

"It is for your students. Aw. You are scared that they will be hurt, aren't you?" She said.

"Scared? I don't think I've ever been scared before. But if one of them is killed, I – it doesn't feel good to think about."

"You're a good instructor. You care for the people in your charge. You are a natural at music; I can already tell. So, I have a suggestion for you. Learn to use healing magic."

"Mercedes has that magic. It is faith based."

"Correct," Manuela nodded. "Let your emotions speak to the goddess and ask her for protective magic. You have to want it and feel that divine magic run through your veins. Well. You want to learn?"

"I do."

"This beginner's course shouldn't take too long." She winked and helped him along. They were sure to move onto intermediate material within the next few weeks, and Byleth would learn simple healing spells to save his students if the worst were to come. His focus did not waver and hi will was strong in this – yes, his desire to protect overwhelmed him and the music was sweet to him. He enjoyed his session and went back to work on class notes and priorities.


	12. Stunned Silence

Stunned Silence

5/3 Saturday

On the 5th, the school's lessons will finally begin. The hype from the mock battle fell and soon the students returned to gossiping about other things – the topic of Dimitri's sexuality, especially among them. For whatever reason unknown to the prince, that topic was at the height of its popularity, but thankfully the professor was less than desiring to spend his time with Dimitri.

Or at least, that had been Dimitri's impression from the last few days' interactions.

Felix still demanded to not spar with Dimitri as to not become wrapped up in those tales of conquest, which left Sylvain to sneak in an attempt. "You could always redeem yourself." The flirt suggested at lunch, probably with an underhanded scheme, "We can go prove to the world that you aren't what those rumors say you are."

"I do not care either way, but I do wish it would not interfere with my day to day life." Dimitri sighed. Two more excruciating days of doing nothing.

"Well. Uh. Do you like the professor like that?" Sylvain rubbed his palms together, indicating something sexual.

"Of course . . ." Dimitri stopped himself, a brief image appearing in his mind's eye, then added weakly, "not."

Sylvain whistled, "Damn, you hesitated. Maybe that's why you're not into being my wingman. We're playing the wrong demographic for you."

"I don't need this from you. I am not looking for love in either gender, so please just back off."

Sylvain clicked his tongue and replied, "Who said anything 'bout love? That's an antiquated notion. Bet Ingrid's stories are the only place you'll find 'true love's everlasting' bull. I could have sworn you were severely disapproving of our professor. Changed your mind?"

"I still do not know what to make of him." Dimitri admitted, but he adjusted to the professor's off mannerisms enough to know he wasn't overtly malicious, just awkward. Dimitri found it harder to fault the professor for lacking social etiquette; especially after the professor showed numerous efforts to try.

"Yeah. He's a bit of an oddball. But dude knows what he's doing, that much is for sure. In a year, none of this will even matter anymore, so . . . I'm going to get through it the only way I know how."

"Chasing girls?" Dimitri asked.

"You got it. Later, highness." Sylvain walked away and Dimitri had no strength left in him to scold. He thought back to what Dedue told him earlier . . .

#

"You took offense at the professor during the celebration?" Dedue asked pointedly.

"Well, I mean, we did win, thanks to his efforts. And I am sure that everyone else in that room was ecstatic about that. Were you not as well? I remember a smile on your face."

"What pleases you, pleases me." Dedue commented.

"You are allowed to be happy about things on your own. You know that, right?"

"I do. I am happy with my flower garden and garden produce yield. As well as cooking. Two hobbies that do not fascinate you in the same regard." Dedue answered.

"Well. Yes."

"Not to mention sewing. And cleaning. How often do I empty out your trash bin?"

"Okay! Okay! I understand." Dimitri sighed.

"Let me tell you about my childhood teacher. Maybe it will help you out." Dedue explained. "He was strong. He protected our village several times over. We looked up to him, and he in turn, passed his wisdom down to us. He was tough. Serious. And distant. He taught us what was needed to survive. That's all."

Dimitri sighed. "I understand."

"A teacher is many things. A 'friend' is usually not one of them."

As if friendship came easily for Dimitri. They were all willing to serve but could not drop the hierarchy parts, even on request. As Sylvain struggled to find a woman who was not solely interested in siring a crest baby, Dimitri was hard pressed to find a friend that didn't cling to his social status – and remind him of it every five goddamn seconds.

Dedue was not an exception to this; though Dimitri valued whatever their relationship was.

#

Dimitri went to the library to sort himself out and to casually look at the books. Maybe something would jog his memory about what he needed to look for next.

'_If Arundel is who I think he is, then that means the Empire is where I need to set my sights.' _Dimitri thought.

'_Of course, I would have to be careful not to start a war. A war between kingdom and empire is not my goal – especially if it would one day mean crossing blades with Edelgard.'_

'_Arundel would have the resources necessary to set that whole event in motion. I couldn't care less about why he chose to do so, but I need to know if there are others. Navigating the peace treaties would have to be secondary if I wish to strike fast and heavy.'_

On the landing to the second floor, Dimitri saw the professor leaving the Archbishop's presence. His blood went cold, but he greeted him anyway, "I trust everything is well, professor?"

"Hm?" the professor glanced up and nodded. "Yes."

"Did your visit have anything to do with our upcoming mission?" Dimitri asked.

"No." The professor did not elaborate beyond that. Dimitri speculated that he had his reasons and went for a dismissal, only for the professor to say, "I asked about the church's teachings. I am unfamiliar with religion."

"Oh. Yes. Your previous lack of knowledge when we first met suggests that – not that I am calling you ignorant, I assure you. I merely forgot that you were uninformed." This was going well . . .

"Yes. That's true." The professor said without a hint of sarcasm. Actually, he probably would not understand that, since he was much like a child and could not read people's many indistinct connotations. Felix's comments had flown over the professor's head thus far and only demonstrated Dimitri's point. Dimitri thought about how meeting the professor randomly might change his goals for the day, if he would allow it to or let him pass.

"Do you want to spar?" Dimitri asked, though he regretted phrasing it so clingily. It came unprompted as well, which only exacerbated his growing embarrassment.

"Right now?" the professor asked.

"If you're agreeable to it?" Dimitri took a deep breath in. Why was talking to the professor especially hard today? The professor gently brushed his hair behind his ear and nodded. Then he jotted something in that notebook of his before verbally acquiescing.

'_What is he writing? I saw him do that before, just recently.'_

But Dimitri had a hard time asking that question. He kept it to himself and they walked in very awkward silence back down. Perhaps Dimitri should have stuck with his original plan and not involved himself with the professor, yet. The constant emotional whiplash was proving to be too much for him.

As they walked, Dimitri heard the professor humming a lively tune to himself. It was one of the old, sprightlier church songs. Dimitri stopped and stared for a moment, before asking, "I thought you knew little about music?"

The professor stopped humming. "Oh. I didn't realize I was . . ." And to Dimitri's slight dismay, made a conscious effort not to start humming again. " . . .I learned it yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Dimitri repeated. The sky overhead, blue with lazy clouds drifting above, shown ever bright. The professor's eyes followed a pegasus scout for a brief moment, before returning to earth.

"Yes. Manuela is teaching me. Who trains those birds?" the professor asked, pointing at the pegasus and its rider.

"That is a pegasus, and its knight. Aerial scouts for the monastery. If you'd like to know more about them, you should ask Ingrid."

"Oh." The professor took out his journal once more and recorded the information.

" . . . As for me," Dimitri continued, suspecting these notes were reminders for the professor, "I prefer a more 'stable' creature, excuse the unintended pun. I prefer horseback to winged."

"What is a 'pun'?" The professor asked.

"A play on words. I suppose I should have realized it would not calculate well with you."

"We are doing math now?" The professor became even more confused. Dimitri laughed at the professor's expense; how could he be so naive?

"Professor. Let me break this down for you. When I said 'stable', I meant two different things. Horses remain on the ground, more or less, meaning that they are a 'stable' or a steady creature."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"But I also meant that those creatures are found in a 'stable'. It had two meanings, so it was a play on words."

"Where are pegasuses stored if not in a stable?" the professor asked.

"Oh. I suppose I hadn't thought about that. Would it be a stable as well?"

"Maybe they nest in a tree?"

". . . Professor, pegasi are not birds. Also, they would need a rather large tree, wouldn't you think?"

"Oh. That's true." The professor seemed defeated. Dimitri was right behind him. The professor pointed at a fleshier beast and asked, "What about those?"

"Wyvern. Those are the Draco Knights."

". . . I take it they aren't birds, either?"

"No," Dimitri chuckled, "They are not birds, either. They are a subspecies of dragons."

"Not everything with wings are birds." The professor said – it was almost a question, to be precise.

"Did you forget that insects exist?" Dimitri pointed out.

". . . Oh."

'_I shall take that as a yes. . .' _That distraction was exactly what Dimitri needed to feel relaxed once more. He wanted to ask how the professor viewed him, but decided _that _would be too forward.

"Words have multiple meanings." The professor said. "A pun is to mean two different things?"

"Yes, you could look at it that way. If you listen to Alois speak for more than a few moments, he will make a lot of those jokes."

"Alois is. . .?" The professor took out his notes.

"The knight that you met the same night we did. He is the one who recognized your father immediately. Do you recall?"

"No, I – wait. Maybe."

"I will point him out if we see him." Dimitri promised. The professor nodded. His own expressions seemed less pensive than they were moments ago, replaced with a neutral but somehow soothing resting face. He had an inquisitive spark in his eyes and evidently had another thought come to mind.

"Why does 'fawned over' mean looking for attention? Fawns are young deer, right?"

"Turns of phrases are developed over time. But I do wonder, in what context did you first learn about that particular one?" With the rumors circulating, Dimitri had to wonder if the professor finally caught on.

"Oh. Manuela said that you were 'fawning over' me. I don't quite understand, though. Oh. Wait. I kind of do now."

"Gossiping isn't limited to students. That's good to know." Dimitri's smile vanished as he said that with held back bitterness. "And what do you mean by, 'I kind of do now'?"

"I understand why she would say that about you." The professor answered.

"I am not 'fawning'! This is not me fawning over you!" Dimitri yelled that far louder than he meant to, grabbing the attention of several bystanders. "Goddess, how did this develop so out of control?"

"Oh. My mistake." The professor said. That only glowered Dimitri's ire further, somehow.

"Then why would you espouse such nonsense in the first place? Surely you could have comprehended the difference between fact and hearsay!" But as he said it, Dimitri knew that the professor could not. He heard something erroneous from an infamous flirt, and only made the error of being gullible enough to believe her version of events.

The professor said nothing in return. The peace on his face had erased – destroyed by Dimitri's thoughtless outburst. Of course the professor meant nothing by that comment – he was learning socialization skills; after lacking it for one reason or another, the professor was actively trying to learn. And Dimitri was regressing, by the sounds of his own huffing.

#

The morning of the 3rd day in the 5th month, Byleth woke early. A nightmare – that is what he learned to call these events – shook him awake. He saw many people, whom he did not recognize but in a strange way did, cut down in front of him. He heard wails cry from his mouth, though they belonged to some other being. A woman, from what it sounded like. This person, who he saw the world through, hugged the nearest person's corpse tightly, and begged for them to stay all alive.

It was such a surreal dream. Bodies upon bodies, staining the place red. Then he heard mocking laughter at the person Byleth spectated. He awoke after that menacing laughter rang in his ears. This dream left him in such a state, that remaining in bed was not an option. He saw Felix on his way to the training grounds. Felix greeted him far friendlier than he had in the past.

"Good morning. It's rare to see you up and about at this hour."

"Yeah." Byleth nodded and walked with him.

"You hang out with that prince often." Felix said. "For years, the boar prince and I were inseparable. I know him better than almost anyone else."

"I did not know that." Byleth admitted.

"Right. So let me give you some advice on that beast. Beneath all that princely polish, he's an animal. Nothing more."

"An animal?"

"You relied on him in the mock battle, but he almost blew your strategy, remember? He's strong and skilled, sure. But don't place your trust in him as a human being. Take care that he doesn't chew you up and spit you out."

Byleth pondered Felix's message, but decided that he would not change his course of action when it came to Dimitri or anyone else. In a few hours, that decision would be tested.

#

In those hours, Byleth had forgotten about Felix's cryptic words and the nightmare, devoting his day to educating himself on new subjects. He was caught unaware by the present situation: the prince's reaction to what Byleth now learned was an unacceptable topic. Which made him doubt every other word that could fall from his mouth, so he just shut up. He could not even form an apology; he was stunned so thoroughly back into silence.

Even as he drew his journal to his face, Byleth did not know what to write. He was confused, for starters. If he was amiss again, Byleth would have acknowledged it once and never mentioned it again. He meant no harm by asking, but it clearly offended Dimitri viscerally, and Byleth could not grasp the nuances as to why.

He dared not ask, either.

These rules were too much. He wished to go back into quiet hiding – to the life of a mercenary. Byleth was the last person who should be forced into this role of 'teacher'. He knew even less of the world than that of his pupils, and it seemed that the students were teaching him, which was wrong. Jeralt's military tactics came naturally to Byleth. Nothing else made sense.

And so Byleth closed his journal, meaning to never open it again for the sake of learning about his students. This was too much for him. Maybe it was a pointless endeavor, after all . . .

It was Dimitri who finally broke the silence, and said in a much calmer voice, "I apologize. I should not have yelled at you. Again."

Byleth nodded, finding his voice gone. He felt nauseated, in truth. Jeralt never yelled at Byleth before, not within his ability to remember, at least. He tolerated the prince's outbursts thus far, slightly understanding from where they came. But Byleth's endurance for it was thinning.

"I was the one who was in the wrong." Dimitri explained. "Just . . . don't believe everything you hear."

Byleth did not react. At all. He focused on a getaway strategy, wanting to break free from this encounter. He did not want to understand this time. He just wanted to escape this uncomfortable situation. Perhaps Dimitri sensed this as well, and asked, "Do you want to postpone sparring?"

When Byleth agreed to spar at first, he actually did not want to. He already practiced with Felix earlier and was worn out from adjusting to his new life. He said yes to . . . please Dimitri, maybe? But now that his voice failed to create sounds, Byleth merely nodded once more instead of giving any clarification. Dimitri noticeably winced, but said, "I understand. Another time, then."

#

From where Dimitri stood, watching the professor leave physically hurt him. He had grown too accustomed to raising his voice at the professor that he could not catch himself before he dealt that blow. He expected the professor to yell back or to say anything in his defense, to which Dimitri would then concede – but that silence had to be more deafening than anything the professor could have said in response.

Dimitri did not want this feeling to stick with him. He had a need to resolve this before the weight of it burdened him with all the other thoughts that kept him awake at night. His feet forced him forward as he kept an eye on the professor.

Dimitri wondered why he reacted so harshly to the accusation. He grew tired of hearing about it, that was true. Hearing it from the person these rumors sprang from did not help, especially since the professor took a tone of agreement to it. Worse, he learned it from another professor, which spoke volumes about anti-professionalism. But at its core, Dimitri had to acknowledge one thing.

Him 'fawning over' the professor was an accurate statement, at least to some degree. Which is precisely why he wanted to make amends before this would be irreversible. Selfishly invested, like the hypocrite that he was, Dimitri wanted his talks with the professor to continue. They added a breath of fresh air to an otherwise hazardous atmosphere.

"Professor." Dimitri called once more. Thankfully, the professor did stop walking and turned around. His face, however, was far from relieved about that. "I need to retract that apology from earlier and start over. I am sorry for taking that out on you – it was not you that I was angered with. It is a long story, one that I am not sure I can convey to you in a way that you would understand, but I should never have yelled at you for it."

The professor remained speechless. Motionless, even. Dimitri said, "Please say something. I am begging you."

The professor spoke up after a few moments of mental prepping. He asked a singular word, "Why?"

"Oh." Dimitri took a step back, "Well . . . I just need to hear your . . . thoughts." His voice; Dimitri just needed to hear the professor's voice again.

"No. Why were you upset?"

The professor wanted an explanation. That was fair. Dimitri did not know if he could give it, though. "What I am doing is not anyone else's concern. So when other people attempt to presume my actions and spread it around like it's open for discussion, I tend to become defensive. And it was only a matter of time before those discussions reached you. Since they, in part, include you."

When Dimitri gave a short pause for the professor to respond, that moment was left silent. It appeared that, if he were going to get any input from his professor, Dimitri would have to make it clear he requested it. So he asked, "Does that make sense to you so far?"

"No."

"I do not know how to explain it any better, unfortunately. Is it too soon to ask for your forgiveness? I will make an effort to not repeat this. My behavior is inexcusable."

"It's fine."

Dimitri perked up at those words. "Oh? Then can we pick up where we left off? I will not relapse again, I promise you."

"I don't want to train."

Dimitri nodded, "That is okay with me. I wondered if you ever rode a horse before. Captain Jeralt obviously has, but I haven't seen you on one."

"I haven't tried."

"Would you like to?"

"That's something I should probably learn . . ." The professor said.

"Great! I will show you to the stables." To hell with what other people said about the pair of them. Sylvain was right – in a year this would not even matter, so why should Dimitri let their meaningless opinions ruin a good thing? Dimitri recognized his depraved state yearned for the professor's approval; he had a faint idea as to why and would no longer deny that he sought attention, specificallyfrom the professor.

Dimitri decided to sate this need for as long as it was available to him. Vengeance first. The professor's attention second. Keeping the peace in the aftermath third. Those were the top three priorities, in order, for Dimitri's life inside this miserable prison of a monastery. In time, he would ask for the professor to return with him. Only the professor could decide what Dimitri's priorities looked like after he graduated.


	13. Daybreak

Daybreak

At the stables, Byleth noticed immediately the horse his father owned went missing. Presumably, his father went out on a mission. Dimitri noticed his eyes rested on an empty pen, and said, "Is something wrong, professor?"

"Father's out." He answered flatly.

"Oh. Did he not say he would be?"

Byleth looked at Dimitri and shrugged. "He didn't."

"Oh. I – I am not sure what to say. Do you still want to try horseback riding?" Dimitri asked.

"Yes." Byleth nodded. He was mostly over the shock from earlier, though he feared saying the wrong thing again. Manuela might help him solve the mystery behind the prince's anger, but for now, Byleth responded with as minimal words as possible.

"Okay. Well. This is my horse." Dimitri said as he pet the creature that came up to him. The horse, with a fluffy blueish grey coat, nuzzled Dimitri in turn and he explained, "One of my subjects brought him up today. His name is Daybreak."

"He's big." Byleth said.

"He was bred to be. Which does sound a bit odd, but our horses need to survive the winter and handle a large workload." Dimitri grabbed a double saddle and held it under his arm while beckoning Daybreak out from the stable. They walked a path toward the horseback training grounds, which Byleth did not know existed previously to this encounter. Daybreak trotted without guidance to Dimitri's side.

"Then you like horses?" Byleth asked.

"One of the few pleasures in life, if I am being honest. When peo – life becomes too strenuous, I like to travel a safe path by myself."

"A path?"

"The castle had a few that I could sneak away to. Trails hidden away in the trees. I had a spot that I would frequent, a watering hole that a stream ran into. I would find myself there often. I do enjoy the company of others, but sometimes I just want to free my mind and revel in a journey with an animal that knows no difference between a commoner and a noble."

"Oh." Byleth debated whether it was safe to ask – but he found himself lacking and curious. He knew the difference, sort of, but all people looked the same to him still. "What is the difference between a commoner and a noble?"

"Now I know that jokes are new to you, but I think you could come up with something a little better." Dimitri said.

". . .Well . . ." Byleth shrugged.

"Oh. Wait. You're serious. Uhm. Well, the most obvious is the existence of crests."

"The professor Hann – uh Hanna . . ."

"Hanneman?"

"That sounds right. Yes. he said I had a crest."

"You do?" That news surprised Dimitri. "Oh. I suppose you are the child of Captain Jeralt, so that would make sense. What is your crest?"

"I don't know."

Dimitri squinted, but remained straightforward, "Neither Professor Hanneman nor your father told you?"

"They didn't know."

"That's actually peculiar. We should know most, if not all, crests by now."

"I think Handman said something similar."

"Hanneman, professor. I do not believe he would take too kindly to being called _that_."

"Oh. My mistake."

Dimitri chuckled, "Well . . . the second quality of a noble leans toward status and land owning, as well as decision making power over a region of people. You and your father were mercenaries, so I do not think it applies much to you. Commoners are responsible for themselves. Or, in cases like Jeralt, runs small 'businesses' at most. Nobles are responsible for a lot more than that."

"Nobility sounds complicated."

Dimitri nodded, "It is. If you had to appraise me in this moment, would you think I could handle the affairs of my entire country?"

"I don't know enough to make that judgement."

"That is fair. What if I told you that I did not, either? What if there is a person out there who could lead better than I ever could, but were born a commoner? Would a Kingdom in waiting only lose in the end due to qualities I might lack? That could have been filled in that much sooner, if we were open to it?"

Byleth shook his head. The idea of nobility and ruling were far too complex for him to even debate, much less understand from where Dimitri's fears emanated. "I am new to this subject as well."

"Right. Of course. I did not mean to burden you with my problems." Dimitri quickly abandoned the topic, but Byleth recognized it weighed heavily on him. Whatever his plight, dismissing it was the wrong move. It was real enough to create agony and Byleth could only listen.

"You're fine." Byleth assured in two words. Dimitri smiled on anyway.

There was a bit of humor in the professor's lack of understanding – in many ways, Dimitri found the human equivalent to an animal who knew no difference, and what did Dimitri do? He educated the uninformed one. What else was he supposed to do? Allow the professor to remain clueless? That worked when he was a mercenary, but simply would not do in their current culture.

The professor broke the silence and stated, "Now you're quiet. Did I say something wrong?"

"What? No! Of course not, I was just thinking." Dimitri bit the inside of his cheek. He would seriously have to start keeping his anger in check – it was like scolding a puppy. Positive reinforcement was going to do a lot more for him than yelling every time the professor said something careless.

"About?" The professor asked.

"We are at the track," Dimitri evaded the question and pointed to several courses of jump obstacles and endurance laps. They were alone, as the school season still was in its infancy, and Dimitri counted that as a blessing. "Just as you and I do not like to wear our full gear to bed, horses also become uncomfortable under all this. That said, we dress them for utility. These saddles will help you guide the horse and keep you steady."

Dimitri demonstrated how to dress the horse up. There were two pairs of footholds, one for each of them. "I thought it might be easiest to teach with one horse to start." He defended himself before the professor could accuse him of anything.

"I see." The professor nodded, eying the fully outfitted horse. It was difficult for Dimitri to interpret meaning, if there truly was any, from those vague words. Perhaps he was overthinking things again and made a conscious effort to remind himself of that.

Dimitri continued his lesson. "Now. Before we get too much further ahead, one of the basics to know is to never sneak up on a horse and always let your presence be known. You do not want to be the target of a hind kick or a trample, nor do you want to chase down a spooked horse."

"Understood."

"Hmm. Well. Normally, I would advise saddling up at the stables, but Daybreak has always been calm and I wanted room to show you. You might have noticed, but he has kept his eyes on us. Always approaching from the front. Then you can reach out and test their temperament."

"Reach out? As in touch?"

"Yes. Bring your hand up to Daybreak's face." Dimitri coached.

The professor brought his hand forward and the held it several feet away from Daybreak. The horse made a nudging motion, but did not come into contact with the professor's hand. He gave a questioning look over to Dimitri, who nodded and encouraged the professor to extend his hand out further.

"Soft." The professor said as his hands sank into the fluff on the horse's long face.

"Yes. His breed is. Daybreak seems to like you well enough. Are you ready to hop on and ride?" Dimitri asked, and then was thankful no one overheard that remark and misinterpreted it.

"Hm." The professor quizzically inspected the height of the horse, appearing more skeptical of the action the more he stalled.

"You do not have a fear of heights, do you?" Dimitri asked.

"No. I don't understand how to get on."

"Have you watched your father before?" The professor's eyes glossed over. A second later he closed them and shook his head. Strange. . . Dimitri then approached the horse with the same advice he gave the professor, gently patting Daybreak as he moved from the horse's face to the saddle. Dimitri slowly put one foot into the back hold, then rounded his free leg around to the other side. "Just make sure you have the proper foot in the hold, or you well end up facing the wrong direction."

"Okay." The professor walked to Dimitri and the horse craned his neck to follow the new face. The professor looked at the footholds and thought about the placement, then slipped one foot into it. The other leg dangled as the professor conceptualized the next action he should take. Dimitri scooted further back to make room, then offered a hand. The professor took it.

"Alright. You are going to need to bring that other leg up." Dimitri said. The professor swung his weight and lifted his leg to mount. Since the professor had enough strength, balance, and poise, he did not need Dimitri's help much. Dimitri repositioned once the professor had both his feet in place and said, "Take hold of the reins. Daybreak is trained, so guiding him will be easy."

The professor held the leather strap in his hands, but he did not know what to do with them. Dimitri gave a gentle tap against Daybreak's side and the horse moved forward at a slow trot. The professor looked back at Dimitri for supervision, doubting his own capabilities to navigate on horseback. Dimitri found it adorable, to be honest.

Dimitri noticed how kempt the professor was, eyeing the nearly perfect blueish green strands of hair on the professor's head, and the perplexed look on his face. Dimitri glanced passed the professor to the reins, then carefully wrapped his arms around the professor's to give practical instructions in steering. The professor gave no signs of a protest, but Dimitri hoped it wasn't too awkward, nonetheless.

"All you have to do is pull in the direction you want to move in." Dimitri guided Daybreak to the circular dirt track. "Depending on the horse, they will naturally find a path without much input."

"Okay." Dimitri removed his enfolding over the professor and observed, taking on a passive role as the professor practiced maneuvering. Daybreak naturally kept to the even ground of the route and whinnied when the professor over tugged, which ended up working out extremely well, as the professor was quick to read those negative cues and adjust.

They enjoyed a few laps in silence. Dimitri closed his eyes and felt the gentle touch of the wind on his face. He yearned for the silencing whooshes from Daybreak at top speed, but this was nice. Relaxing.

It was not until a bellow of thunder from somewhere west of them that Dimitri began to worry. A sudden thunderstorm might agitate Daybreak; well behaved or untrained horses alike often reacted negatively to storms, and with a novice rider at the helm, Dimitri and the professor were likely to be thrown off the horse's back.

"Professor. Dismount. We will continue this another time." Dimitri said, watching the western skies carefully. The professor also picked up on the strange weather behavior and moved to get down. The professor had his legs together and lowered himself carefully, when a more prominent growl rumbled, causing Daybreak to buck. The professor and Dimitri kept secured somehow, with the professor holding onto the saddle with both hands, one foot in the foothold, and the other leg swinging dangerously free. Once the animal calmed down, the professor hopped off entirely, meeting the ground.

Dimitri took the reins and said, "I will guide him in case he startles again."

The professor looked ahead. Suddenly, the path they traveled seemed to extend for miles longer than when they first took it. "Go on ahead, Dimitri." The professor instructed. A little rain wouldn't hurt, but the horse acted panicky, and it was likely that the professor picked up on that fact.

"Alright. Once I get him back to the stables, I'll double back for you." Dimitri said. They were safe in the monastery grounds, so there really was no reason to worry. Dimitri sped the horses speed up and galloped toward the stables. When he wished for a faster ride, racing against the weather not exactly what he had in mind.

A prominent moisture was in the wind as Dimitri commanded the horse away from professor and to shelter. Daybreak slowed down a few times and snorted at Dimitri's controls, going as far as reversing a few times in a show of angst. "C'mon." Dimitri patted the horse's head in encouragement, "I know you're better than this."

Beads of water fell to Dimitri's head and shoulders. A thunderstorm readied to unleash its heavenly force and time was of the essence. After praise, Daybreak seemed to have gained his nerve back, and carried Dimitri toward the stable.

It soon came in view and Dimitri clicked his tongue for more speed. Then he could go back and make sure nothing happened to the professor. A bright stripe of lightening graced the sky, temporarily leaving Dimitri's vision registering at an inverted color wheel. He blinked to get the colors adjusted back to normal and to get that black smear out of the center of his vision. During those few seconds of inability, the horse stopped, equally affected by that blinding light.

"We are almost there," Dimitri said once more, and they started to move again. Dimitri saw a girl he almost recognized up at the stables, standing just inside the doors as she took cover from the rain. She had dampened silvery blue hair, pulled back out of her face except for a few strands that framed it.

She saw Dimitri as well and looked a bit stunned before she retreated inside. When Dimitri finally arrived in the door, he dismounted from the wet horse and felt partway drenched. The girl came back with a towel; but before Dimitri could thank her and refuse it, she threw it over Daybreak's neck and began to dry him.

"You got startled, didn't you, Daybreak?" She said, addressing the horse before she did Dimitri. In fact, it almost seemed like she deliberately ignored him.

"Oh. Are you going to take care of him?" Dimitri asked, "I suppose that means you are on stable duty?"

"Hmm? Oh. Yes. He is fine with me." She said nervously.

"You look familiar, though I don't believe we have officially met. I am Dimitri. And you are?"

"Um. Marianne." She looked at the horse still, who had made various noses, then said, "Aren't you forgetting someone?"

"Yes, I was about to go retrieve him. How did you know?"

"Uh. You and the professor went together. Not . . . not like Daybreak could have told me or anything!" She unsaddled the horse as she pretended to no longer exist. What an odd girl, Dimitri thought as he braved the storm.

If Dedue were with him, he would scold Dimitri for opening himself up to catching a cold. The path would not take too long to traverse, though the dirt became mud and Dimitri's clothes were dirtied and soaked by the elements. He did not have to go too far, as the professor was in sight about a quarter of the way in.

Dimitri stopped under a tree, seeing no point in continuing forward. The professor's pace was a sprint and he would catch up in seconds. The professor then stopped under the tree as well and sighed. "This was unexpected."

"Yes." Dimitri nodded. "We can take shelter in the stables until this rain finishes. There's someone else there, though. And I don't think she cares for company."

"Hm." The professor nodded. "Then we'll leave her alone."

"Come to think of it, all I want to do is undress. Perhaps walking the extra few minutes back to our rooms would be the better option." Dimitri suggested.

"Perhaps."

"You do not care either way, I am assuming?" Dimitri asked.

"No. I am fine with either. Oh. . ." The professor's eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong?" Dimitri did not try to guess. He was learning the answers the professor gave were never what he anticipated.

"My books in the window are going to get wet." Case in point. Though, he did bring up a fair point.

"Okay. Let's go save your books, then." Dimitri laughed. "It's just a little rain, right?"

"Right." The professor nodded.

They sprinted as fast as they could in those conditions, keeping a brisk pace with one another. Dimitri felt a chill, but he welcomed it. Cold felt normal to him. He only wondered how the professor was doing, but he seemed just as well as Dimitri. The jogged by the stables toward the marketplace and stopped in a gateway for a breath and a moment out of the rain.

Dimitri wrung what loose fabric he could, then kicked his boots against the wall. "So soaked. I wish the weather for the day came with a preemptive warning."

"Yeah." The professor nodded.

"We can cut through the entrance hall to the dining hall. We will be closer to your room at that point."

"We will? Okay. Let us do that. Your room would be further away, though."

"I will be okay. Most of our way back would be out of the rain, at least. We might even dry off. Or maybe the rain will subside by then." The wind tunneled through the arch, bringing a shudder to the professor.

"I wonder if my father is caught in the storm." The professor said, despite his body's reaction.

"Oh. Right. He went out on business, didn't he?" Dimitri remembered. "Hmm. I am sure he is fine, even if he is dealing with this as well."

"Oh. I am sure. He knows how to take advantage in the rain." The professor answered.

"Is that so? Do you think he is in a battle right now?"

"It's likely." The professor nodded.

"Do you worry about him?"

". . . Not usually."

"Are you worried about him right now?" Dimitri pushed.

"I think so."

Dimitri smiled. There was something within the professor that represented compassion; he just seemed to exist in uncanny territory with his responses. The professor reached inside his inner pockets and pulled out a journal. He opened the pages to look for damages and aired it out.

"What is that, professor?"

"Oh. My notebook."

"I've seen you write in it a lot lately. What are you taking notes on?"

"Things I learn."

"Oh. That makes sense. Did you write in there about how pegasi are not birds?"

"No. I can remember that."

Dimitri laughed because there was not hint of humor in the professor's voice. After he let it out of his system, Dimitri asked, "So, you write down things you may not remember later. What would that be?"

"Oh. Things about you."

"Me?" Dimitri's smile faded.

"And the other students. What you like and dislike. Strengths and weaknesses."

"Oh, of course." Dimitri stopped holding in his breath. It was good that the professor didn't have a journal full of things about Dimitri, though it was still a strange gesture. "Does it help you?"

"So far, yes."

"Well, that sounds great, then . . ." Still weird, but he was giving an effort, and that was important. Luckily for them, there was a break in the weather. "Let's go, before it kicks back up."

"Okay." The professor and Dimitri hurried to the entrance hall, with minimal new dampness. They enjoyed each other's company in quiet, though Dimitri heard the whisperings around them from a crowded inside, where students congregated for refuge. They were, of course, talking about Dimitri and the professor, who, judging by the spaced-out expression, did not hear the same chatter.

_What a strange creature_, Dimitri thought. A bird of a different feather. Yet, if these other students wanted to associated Dimitri with the professor, then why should he care? There were worse people to be correlated to and Dimitri had no plans to stop seeing the professor to sate the gossiping. This situation was only temporary, and he wanted to make the most of it.

And the professor made Dimitri feel more human than anyone else he had encountered in the last several years. Something more than a prince in waiting. And more than a son who wanted to avenge his father. Maybe Dimitri could trust the professor with his plans.

_No_. Dimitri decided. _The professor and that incident have nothing to do with each other. I will not ruin a good thing by bringing the professor into my nightmares._ And so, Dimitri continued on like there wasn't a care in his world.

Notes:

I looked up horse names and found Daybreak listed as one. I decided it was fitting and that "Chasing Daybreak" is one of my favorite FE tracks.


	14. Fly Birds

Byleth woke up to another series of weird and disturbing dreams of people he did not know and a city he had never visited before. His chest ached in a similar way to something that persisted since he arrived at the monastery. He pressed his hand into his chest and felt nothing.

He never undressed, he realized, and he picked up his journal, books, and notes after tidying up his hair. He would have a staff meeting with the teachers before the school year lessons finally began. His evening was entirely spoken for, so he thought it would be best to prepare in the library. Byleth saw Dimitri and the other house leader, the one in the yellow, talking with Dedue standing watch. They were being friendly from what Byleth could tell.

"Yo, Teach." The tan man waved, "Nice moves out there."

"Indeed." Dimitri nodded. "You are quite skilled. I am glad to have you."

"If the Prof didn't get into that squabble, I bet we could have won." He winked. "Though, I guess a certain someone I won't name had to charge ahead."

Edelgard interrupted them with, "A well-executed strategy will only succeed if the people under you obey. You should inform your nobles about the chain of command and how it works."

"Hah! As if they'd listen to me."

"That attitude is poor. How do you expect to lead a country with that meagre approach? You must bend them to your will." She went on.

"Or dispose of them." Her tall and sinister looking retainer said.

"Uh, how about we do not joke about such things?" Dimitri said.

Claude was also put off by that comment. "Right. Anyway, I plan to rule by the seat of my pants and a prayer to the Gods. Er. Goddess."

"You would be better off learning to trust in your own strengths, Claude. Not rely on something whimsical." She berated.

"Is that a touch of atheism I detect, Madam Emperor?" Claude joked.

"I am simply saying that if she were to exist, her hand does not reach all."

"You should talk to Shamir. She has some interesting views on Fodlan culture." Claude suggested in earnest.

"One of the Knights? I think I shall pass the opportunity by. Hello Professor. Well met. You are awfully quiet."

"I have nothing to contribute." Byleth said.

Edelgard gave a rebuttal. "I sincerely doubt that. You led your house to victory. It is an impressive feat."

Edelgard's retainer said, "Ah. Yes. I hear your mission is to subdue some bandits. That is very different from the mission we were assigned."

"Hmph. That makes two of us." Claude answered for Byleth. Edelgard and Hubert continued their walk elsewhere, and Claude let out a breath he had been holding. "Geez, those two are intense! I think I like this bro-thing we got going on here."

"'Bro-thing'? What on earth is that?" Dimitri asked.

"You know, us bros against the world. If I had to trust my life with either von Hresvelg and Count Dracula or the Blue Team, I would pick you. We would totally be the three Bromegos."

"Pass." Dimitri said. Then he slanted his eyes and said, "Wait. If that were true, why did you team up with Edelgard? Regardless, I cannot fathom how that was a fair play."

Claude said, "Check the rules, dummy. 'A mock battle's contestants can form a temporary alliance with another house'. It's rule 22 in the handbook. The only time it is considered illegal is if, for whatever reason, under 22 subsection a, that 'If all three houses form a temporary truce, no winner can be declared a victor. While alliances are smiled upon, the point of this exercise is to test wit and strength'."

"That cannot be true." Dimitri protested. "You are making this up."

Byleth had the handbook in his many books and he flipped to it. "Rule 22: A mock battle's contestants can form a temporary alliance with another house. 22 subsection A: If all three houses form a temporary truce, no winner can be declared a victor. While alliances are smiled upon, the point of this exercise is to test wit and strength."

"What!? No way!" Dimitri took the handbook from Byleth.

"BAM! Proof is in the pudding. Thanks for the assist, Teach. Or should I say, Brofessor?"

"No." Byleth shut that down quickly.

"Agreed. That is utterly too foolish to be called."

"Hmm. Well, if the two of you are acting like this, I think I am going to go ruffle Lorenz's feathers by starting a class petition to change the Golden Deer Alliance to the Golden Deer Brolliance. That will probably get him fuming."

"And you wonder why he does not follow orders?" Dimitri asked.

"He has it out for me. Something about my lacking qualifications. Might as well have fun with it, right? Later!"

Dimitri sighed after Claude left. "He is quite a character. I cannot say that I understand such an approach. Those are a lot of books you have with you today."

"Faculty meeting later."

"Oh. I take it you will be busy today." Dimitri frowned.

"Not until after dinner. I was going to read over these books, but . . ." Byleth shrugged.

"You are not wanting to, I take it?" Dimitri chuckled.

"I do have some lesson plans already constructed." Byleth said.

"Oh. That is good to hear. Being prepared is a fine quality."

Byleth nodded. "That's what my Father says. He has a plan for everything."

"Ah, yes. One does not get so far by being ill prepared."

"Yes. Do you think it will rain again?" Byleth asked.

"It does not look like it should. Why do you ask?"

"I want to try horseback again."

"Oh! Oh, okay! Yes, let us go to the stables." Dimitri invited. "You might want to drop all of those materials off, though."

"Oh. Good idea." Byleth agreed and walked away.

#

Goddess, what was wrong with Dimitri now? He could hear the awkward dripping from his voice. He decided the previous night to only say and act with positivity around his professor, but it felt so stunted. The professor had a hard enough time emoting and it did not do much to inspire Dimitri except for a vague hint of growing fondness; but when he complimented his professor just now, it felt so ingenuine. He meant it, to be sure. The professor was amazing. Dimitri just didn't know how to express it well.

The professor approached Dimitri again with a contended look. The only thing left in his hand was a journal and that refill quill. He tucked it away in the folds of his clothing and asked Dedue, "Will you be joining us?"

"You should avoid being seen with me." Dedue said.

The professor tilted his head, "Why?"

"The others will talk. It will ruin your reputation."

"Um?" The professor was genuinely confused.

"You will keep his highness safe, yes?" Dedue asked.

"Of course." The professor nodded.

"Very good. Enjoy yourselves, Prince Dimitri. Professor." Dedue bowed and left them.

"I don't understand." The professor said to Dimitri. His eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

"That is another difficult one to explain." Dimitri said. they walked in quiet until Dimitri registered a way to explain Dedue's behavior. "Dedue's people are not well liked, through no fault of their own. His people were blamed for a tragedy that happened a few years ago. Have you heard about what happened at Duscar?"

"No." The professor answered.

"I will spare you the unpleasantries for now, as I do not want to engage it today, but it is something that affects us both greatly."

"If you want to talk about it, I will listen." The professor said.

"I do not."

"At any point in the future, I meant." The professor clarified.

"Is that an open invitation to come to you with my problems?" Dimitri laughed in a joke. Honestly, it felt like the professor was a sounding board for him.

"Yes."

"Oh. You have no idea what you just agreed to, my professor. It is a wonderful day, so let's focus on the positives. I will have more than enough time to think about it after the sun goes down."

"Dimitri?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

The professor was getting better about picking up on subtle clues. If he learned to understand sarcasm and nuance, Dimitri would be in trouble. "I am wonderful. Thank you for asking. And you?"

"Eh."

Dimitri stopped in his tracks. That wasn't an answer. More to the point, that was not a yes or a no response and fell into the grey space, which was very odd for the professor. "What is wrong?"

The professor said in earnest this time, "Nightmares."

Oh, bless their hearts, Dimitri and the professor finally shared something outside of combat expertise and learning new skills to give them some commonality. "Do you want to talk about them?"

"Hmm." The professor frowned.

"It is okay if you do not. I am merely extending that invitation back to you."

"I am not sure that you want to hear it. I do not understand why I keep having this same dream. They're . . ." The professor trailed off.

Dimitri was impressed that the man could dream, though it was a little mean of him to doubt it. "Trust me, my nightmares are enough to send the sanest man to despair. I can handle it."

"You have terrible nightmares?" The professor asked.

Dimitri grimaced. He said too much. "Yeah. It – they are managed. Do not worry yourself about me."

"You just said that they would –"

"Whew, would you look at those horses! We should gear up." Dimitri walked on ahead. Unfortunately for him, he ran into Ashe and Ingrid again. They were in the middle of an impassioned debate, so they did not notice the prince at all.

Ashe said, "Horses are the go-to for any knight. Just look at any illustration."

Ingrid replied, "Ah! But can you imagine yourself sweeping down on your foes from above? It is a marvelous sight to imagine. A set of white feathers being the last the foes see before the heroine charges her next enemies."

"I do see your point about the aerial. However, I would think a wyvern would be more intimidating."

"Yes, they would. However, the pegasi are so much more graceful. They move faster and are much more nimble."

The professor caught back up to Dimitri at this point in his eavesdropping and said, "Oh, some of the others are here, too. Ashe and . . . hmm. Ingrid, yes."

"You are right with both," Dimitri smiled weakly.

"We should greet them."

"Professor, wait –" Blast, he already got their attention.

"Hello." The professor said to the two students.

"Ah, professor!" Ingrid shouted, "Which is the best for a knight? A horse, a wyvern, or a pegasus?"

"Depends on the terrain and the enemies' weaponry. The best tool for a knight is diversity. If there are ballista in play, then horseback would be more ideal. If you are in sand, then birds – er, flyers."

"Why did you almost call them birds?" Ingrid asked.

"You really did think they were all birds, didn't you?" Dimitri asked.

"They look like birds. They all had wings and fly." The professor said.

Ashe said. "Now this sounds like a story."

"One of legends, to be sure." Ingrid laughed. Then they both listened now that they were in agreeance again.

"They are completely different." Dimitri laughed. "Besides, Wyvern don't even have feathers! Why would you mistake them for birds?"

"Have you ever seen a hairless cat?" The professor asked. "Bul once had a cat he kept with him. The cat would bring back fish and rabbits. It was a hunter cat. I think it was Meowkins the Cat."

Dimitri caught himself before he made an ass of himself again. Once he could speak without outing his mirth, he asked, "And I thought Claude had the most absurd stories to tell. Let me get this straight: You thought wyvern were featherless birds based on a hairless cat named Meowkins?"

"Seemed like a reasonable assumption."

And in a strange way, it almost did make sense how one could draw those conclusions. It seemed like the professor had one specialty in the world and that was combat. Everything else was . . . shaky. It was good that they were not trying to learn academia here because this professor would be way out of his element.

Ashe promised, "When you become a hero of legend, professor, I am going to make sure this story gets placed in an anecdote somewhere. Heroes need human elements, too."

Ingrid chuckled, "Yes. This was very humanizing for you. Thank you for that, professor."

"Uh." The professor held his mouth open.

"Just take it as a compliment," Dimitri said, holding back one last laughing fit.

"Speaking of heroes of legends," Ingrid phrased, looking straight at Dimitri, "Where did we leave off with asking you about a certain few books?"

The professor spoke first, "Oh, yes. That was Dimitri."

"Professor!" Dimitri said, feeling suddenly betrayed.

"Knew it." Ingrid smiled.

"Ah. Thank you for your kindness, your highness." Ashe bowed and walked away.

Ingrid sighed, "You did something nice. I cannot fault you for that, your highness. But remember, Ashe holds a lot of pride. It may not seem like it, but it's there. Please remember that in the future." Ingrid bowed and took her own leave.

"I know that." Dimitri said in a whisper.

"This is about those social rules?" The professor asked.

"A prince or a king is not a good ruler if he doesn't help his people. I will never not believe that." Dimitri said.

"You don't have to believe any different." The professor said.

"Thank you, professor. It is reassuring to hear that."

A humanizing quality, huh? Dimitri found himself longing to know the professor's name again. He didn't bring it up, though. He must have had his reasons for not sharing it.

#

Dimitri showed Byleth how to properly dress the horse up. They stayed in the stables this time as they learned all of the different care that goes into a horse. Hoof maintenance, brushing, cleaning their pen, etc. before they knew it, Byleth had to report in for his duties.

"It is this late already." Byleth said.

"So it is. We will have to take these horses out another time."

"Yes."

"Um. Professor? If you want to talk about that nightmare, I am free to listen. I just do not want to talk about mine."

"Understood. Thank you, Dimitri."

"You are welcome. I am going to take Daybreak out anyway. It's been too long since we've had a good run."

"Enjoy."

Byleth trudged his way to the staff meeting. The last time Byleth had to do this, Hanneman asked for a fingernail shaving. He shuddered to think what that man would ask for next.

#

Dimitri saw a flirt of smile on the professor's face before he walked away. He was getting closer to his goal, he could feel it. He climbed up on Daybreak and rode at a normal pace to the tracks, and focused on keeping that image alive. The professor was so . . . cute. Dimitri found that word came up in his mind if he wanted to mentally describe that man. The intimidation factor was going away and they were finding more delectable qualities. Dimitri did worry about those nightmares, though. It was important that at least one of them get a decent sleep before facing bandits.

Once he got to the track, he let go of all negative thoughts. He let Daybreak go at top speed; the horse knew what to do without much instruction from him. The wind dulled out all of the sounds and only a woosh could be heard now. Daybreak jumped over obstacles, and Dimitri felt his heart soar in his chest each time they were airborne. This was so freeing.

Who needed birds to fly?

#

Hours later, after the meeting came to an end and Manuela gave her piano lesson, Byleth asked when a new curiosity overcame him, "Where does music come from?"

"Oh? Well, obviously people composed it." Manuela said.

"Someone came up with these lines and dots?" Byleth pointed to the staff.

"Use the proper terminology, dear. If you want lessons in music theory, I can give you those, too. It is said that the Goddess herself was a fan of music and dancing, so she gave us the ability to create our own to share in her passions."

"Anyone can be a composer, then?"

Manuela lit up, "Oh, of course! You want to compose, do you?"

"Maybe." Byleth played the following starting at middle C: 'C' 'E' 'B' 'D'. The last note went back down to next to middle C rather than go up to the next octave.

"Oh. It starts off cheery but then ends on a sad note. Hmm. Interesting. Any reason why you chose those four notes?"

Byleth wrote down the corresponding notes on a piece of paper and handed it back to her.

"Oooh aren't you a little romantic? You are just adorable, my professor. Yes, I think I can help you out."

Notes:

Sorry for turning Claude into Barney Stinson... it just worked for some reason

Also, I know that it would never actually work, but I sometimes lowkey ship Claude and Edelgard. For some reason, they have a lot more chemistry than Edelgard and Dimitri ever did...


End file.
